It was a bad day at NCIS.
A biochemical threat had been called in and several sensors in the mailroom were going berserk so this one threat among many was being taken seriously.
The entire building was on lockdown. Everyone was stuck where they had been when the alarms had started shrieking.
And so Ziva found herself trapped in the elevator with the sobbing fiancée of a murder victim. That the Mossad officer was 99 percent certain the woman was also his killer only made it easier for Ziva to not feel guilty about wanting to strangle her. The woman was blathering on about flowers and dresses and RSVPs when she slipped up in her grieving almost-widow act and mentioned the massive life-insurance policy "the dumb bastard forgot to sign before I killed … oh shit."
Ziva cuffed her.
And then gagged her with her own scarf and smiled for the first time in hours.
And so Ducky and Palmer were having tea in autopsy, affectionately trying to out-bore each other to death with random stories. Ducky was, as could be expected, in the lead by several decades' worth of zany adventures. As soon as Jimmy gave in and conceded the victory, Ducky planned on breaking into a victory song—barbershop style, as a kind of consolation prize for his amiable young assistant.
And so McGee was in the men's room, counting tiles and cursing himself for leaving his iPhone at his desk. His only company was the rather foul stench coming from the farthest stall.
Things were considerably worse down in Abby's lab.
Abby was silent.
Gibbs was scared.
And Tony was shrieking.
Yeah, it was a really bad day at NCIS.
But maybe shrieking was the wrong word for it. Perhaps keening was more apt to describe the cries coming from the senior agent as he lay curled in the corner, the pain and pressure in his head making him completely apathetic to the fact that he sounded like a dying animal caught in a bear trap. That the viselike jaws of pain were clamped around his head and not a leg snapped like a twig didn't make the comparison any less apt. It still hurt like hell and there was nothing he could do about it.
Except shriek. Or keen. Or whatever it was.
The alarms were definitely shrieking, though—still. Long after the initial warning, the alarms were still wailing away, which had to be some sort of glitch. Surely the system engineers didn't think the continual warning was necessary? Especially considering there was no getting in or out of the building. There was no moving around it, either, since the elevators and most doors were sealed to stop airborne contaminants from spreading.
Just as Abby was about to start crying and Gibbs was about to pull his gun, the shrieking stopped.
At least from the alarms.
And Abby suddenly wanted them back—if only to drown out the very real, very human shrieking coming from her friend.
And Abby suddenly needed to go to where Tony lay balled up under the windows where he had started his slow slide earlier that afternoon.
"Looks like we're gonna be here a while," Abby had said, looking unbothered since she was at least stuck there with two of her favorite people.
Gibbs looked rather annoyed, and Abby suddenly panicked, doing rapid-fire calculations about her boss's caffeination levels and wondering if there was anything in the lab that could be alchemied into coffee. Tony looked sick, and Abby wondered if he had better (or worse) intel on Gibbs's recent coffee intake and current supply levels.
"Maybe it's just a drill?" Tony shouted hopefully over the squealing alarms.
"Maybe you could call someone and find out," Gibbs growled, making both Abby and Tony flinch.
Which was odd because Tony rarely reacted to Gibbs' foul moods with anything other than excessive cheer.
And both Abby and Gibbs noticed the anomaly.
"You okay, Tony?" Gibbs asked, his concern discernable even over the squawking overhead, all traces of his earlier annoyance evaporated like rain on hot pavement after a summer storm.
Tony started to wince and turned it into an overbright smile. "You mean other than the deafening alarms, the lockdown and the possible imminent death from a biological weapon? Again."
He grinned.
Gibbs got his glare back.
"Just peachy, Boss."
They congregated closer at Gibbs' crooked finger and not-so-optional invitation. When they were practically in a pile, Gibbs waved a hand where he knew Tony's blind spot usually was during the migraines.
"You forgot the headache, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, managing to be heard even though he had spoken softly.
Tony ignored him, which was impressive considering they were so close their shoulders were touching. "I should call someone," he said, trying not to squint at his cell—or pull his gun and shoot himself before the pain got any worse. He flicked the phone open and then immediately shut again. "Crap. It's a real threat. They have the scramblers on."
Gibbs was looking at him like he was insane.
Tony knew that was a signal to keep talking. He looked at Abby for help. "Explain, please?" he asked, hating the pain threading the words almost as much as the plea itself.
"All cell transmissions to, from and within the building are blocked during an actual threat to prevent a device from being triggered by a call. They only flip the switch, so to speak, during real threats. Even the regular phones are disabled so a device can't be detonated by a specific frequency, like a ringer. Don't you ever check your e-mai… Never mind."
Gibbs looked disproportionately furious, and Abby knew why.
"So we are locked in this room with these damned alarms and we can't call anyone?" Gibbs asked, knowing the answer.
Abby nodded anyway.
Tony sighed and tried not to look as mortified as he felt. "And I'm about to make it worse for you."
Abby's eyes went wide.
Gibbs looked upset, for reasons Tony didn't want to think about any more than he wanted to think about Gibbs actually looking upset.
Tony nodded the confirmation no one needed. They both could see the pain in his eyes, the way his head was slightly tilted. But he said it anyway. Might as well get used to being mortified, he thought. "The alarms aren't going to be the only screaming you'll have to put up with. My needles are in my bag upstairs."
Abby sniffed.
Gibbs swore softly.
Tony flinched.
"I'm sorry, Boss."
Abby laid a gentle hand on Tony's shoulder and whispered words that she doubted he could even hear.
He was keening too loudly.
The sound was visceral. Primal. That of an animal in excruciating pain.
It was making Abby sick. But she was also infinitely grateful that Gibbs was there. She had been relatively okay with Tony's shaking. She had handled the gasps that gave way to moans that turned to fists pounding the floor amid cursing Abby would have been amused by had it not been a reminder of her friend's suffering—and her own infuriating helplessness. She had seen tears streaking his pale face before and had handled that by digging down to her deepest wells of strength and simply getting them both through it. But he had never been this pale before.
He was as white as her lab coat.
So was she.
What Abby had not been able to handle, however, was when he had opened green eyes awash in agony and begged her to help him.
And Gibbs, who had been observing from afar, his leg's twitching having nothing to do with caffeine, saw Abby recoil from Tony's anguished plea. Gibbs put a hand on Abby's shoulder, which was shaking in time with DiNozzo's, and he whispered, "I got him, Abbs. I got him. You did good."
He watched her slither away, knowing she wanted to go lock herself in the soundproof ballistics lab to escape his suffering but also knowing she would never leave him like this—even if his suffering was too much for her to be too close to. Just thinking about the room, Gibbs cursed the engineers who had decided alarms were needed even in that soundproof space. He couldn't help thinking that if they had been able to get Tony someplace quiet—away from the alarms shrieking in an odd foreshadowing of DiNozzo's own cries—that he wouldn't be in such bad shape now. Maybe not, but still Gibbs wondered—and still cursed the engineers.
He flicked a glance at the windows, shaking his head slightly.
Abby saw it and signed to him, *Bullet-resistant glass. No way we're breaking out of here.* A look of excitement crossed her face and she jumped to her feet.
Gibbs watched her run toward her office and almost called out to her. But he didn't want to disturb Tony—or give him false hope that just maybe his nightmare would be over soon. So Gibbs grabbed the nearest thing at hand—which happened to be Bert the Hippo—and heaved it at Abby's fleeing back. The animal made contact with a soft fart, and Abby turned, looking bewildered.
*The hell, Gibbs?* she signed.
*What the hell are you doing?* he signed back, the look on his face conveying the tone his hands couldn't.
She grinned, if only a bit shakily. *I'm going to put a note on the window that we need help in case someone sees it.*
Gibbs nodded, not having the heart to voice what she probably already knew: The area around the building was likely blocked off. But it would give the energetic scientist something to do, and Gibbs figured it was possible that an emergency responder might see it.
Abby found paper and markers and went to work making her SOS sign. She allowed herself only one small skull drawing in the corner—if only to make herself feel a little better. She was sure Tony wouldn't mind.
Gibbs watched her hang the sign and hoped she wouldn't fall off the stepladder and break her neck. He wasn't sure how much more he could take. He was getting too damned old for this.
He turned his attention from the safety hazard that was platform boots on a rickety stepladder to his writhing agent. "Tony? You with me?" he breathed, his lips mere inches from DiNozzo's ear. "What can I do?"
Tony stopped moaning long enough to reach out blindly and find Gibbs' hand, locking it in a death grip as soon as he made contact.
"Help me," he whispered, his eyes flicking open for only a second in a flash of green.
But it was long enough for Gibbs to see the pain and suffering—and anger—in them. Gibbs was glad for the anger. At least Tony was with it enough to be pissed about his situation. Gibbs knew he was also humiliated by his shrieking, but there wasn't anything either of them could do about that. He suppressed a shudder at the thought that he couldn't really do anything and at the unfamiliar feeling of helplessness that came tripping on its heels.
"How, Tony?" he asked, squeezing back and trying not to panic over how hard that hand was shaking in his. "How do we help you?"
"Shoot me," Tony moaned.
Gibbs felt a stab of relief at Tony's attempt at humor—until Tony's shaking increased more than Gibbs had thought possible and he realized his agent might not be joking.
"Can't," Gibbs said. "And don't ask me to choke you. Ducky said it's too dangerous with the constricted vessels in your head. You could have a stroke."
Tony didn't speak.
Gibbs didn't think he could.
"Abby," he said, wincing when Tony flinched at his whispered call to the scientist. "Do you have anything we could knock him out with?"
Abby looked excited again for a moment before running lightning-quick through the possibilities and scowling. "I'm not a rapist, Gibbs. I don't keep chloroform in the lab for emergencies."
That plan shattered, they were all silent.
Until Tony started keening again.
And Gibbs finally admitted that he was well and truly scared—if only to himself, silently. He winced at the tightening of Tony's hand on his and made a mental note to confiscate the stress ball the senior agent often played with at his desk. Gibbs told himself it was so Tony couldn't continue bouncing it off unsuspecting teammates' heads. And then he pried Tony's fingers slightly open and moved the death grip up to his forearm out of concern for the small bones in his hand.
" 'M sorry," Tony gasped out, choking on his tears and managing to sound even more miserable.
"Don't worry about it, DiNozzo," Gibbs said gently. Tony flinched at the soft tone, and Gibbs wondered if his sharp agent had picked up on the fear in his fearless leader's voice. Gibbs joked, "Just might need that hand to shoot you if it actually comes to that."
Tony made a slight wheezy sighing noise that Gibbs figured was in appreciation of his attempt at humor.
All traces of humor disappeared when Tony started shaking again, his moans escalating into sharp gasps of sheer blinding pain and then to full-on shrieking. Gibbs watched helplessly as Tony curled into a position he hadn't thought possible of the tall agent. Tony buried his face in his arms and continued screaming into his sleeves. Gibbs could make out odd bits of profanity, but he shivered as he realized it was mostly just an incoherent wail of agony.
"Do something, Gibbs," Abby said, lifting her own tear-streaked face from where it had been buried in her drawn-up knees. "Please, Gibbs. Please. He sounds like he's dying."
Gibbs bit back his scathing retort. "I can't do anything," he said, the defeat in his tone apparently scaring all three of them because Abby started to cry again and Tony stopped screaming immediately.
Gibbs' free hand stilled on Tony's back, where it had been unconsciously moving slowly, soothingly back and forth, and he looked down into anguished green eyes.
" 'M not dying," Tony breathed, the words barely audible as he forced them out and shut his eyes against the freight train of pain that slammed through his skull. "Tell her 'm not dying."
"She knows," Gibbs whispered, unwilling to speak loud enough for Abby to hear him across the room. He knew he couldn't help Tony, but that didn't mean he couldn't not hurt him.
"Might… start… seizing… though," Tony gasped out, his eyes still tightly closed.
Gibbs was glad Tony wasn't looking at him because he knew his panic at that word had showed on his face. Abby's sharp intake of breath proved that, and he looked over and saw the scientist's hands flutter wildly.
*What the hell do we do if he has a seizure?* she signed.
Gibbs didn't actually know the sign for "seizure" but he could guess easily enough. He shrugged, mouthing his words and letting her read his lips because he didn't want to pry Tony's hand off of him. The contact, though Gibbs figured he'd end up with some spectacular bruises, seemed to calm Tony, and Gibbs didn't mind being Tony's lifeline if he needed one. The opposite had been true enough times that it only seemed fair.
*I have no idea,* he mouthed back.
"If I start… just hold me down," Tony whispered, making both Gibbs and Abby wonder if he had read their minds as easily as Abby had read Gibbs' lips. "Only thing you can do… is keep me… from hurting myself. And don't put… your fingers in my mouth. I won't swallow… my tongue. More likely… to bite you."
Tony rested his forehead on the cool floor tiles, completely exhausted by the words. Even through his misery, he was grateful he hadn't eaten in a while and he didn't have to contend with puking his guts out, too. The pain was enough to deal with. He had honestly forgotten how bad it could get without the medication. It was unimaginable. But Tony didn't have to imagine it. He could feel it. And it felt like all of the worst thunderstorms he had ever experienced—all raging at once in the tight confines of his skull. Lightning bolts of pain flared with every sound, every ray of light that slammed into his closed lids, every gasped breath he took. Thunder rolled across his brain every time he moved, and the nausea was so bad he almost wished he could throw up to ease its greasy grip on his roiling stomach.
Fighting it made it worse so he had been giving in to the torment and screaming for all he was worth, oddly hoping to shriek loud enough to lose his voice as quickly as possible so his unfortunate roommates wouldn't have to put up with him as long. But he knew from the conversation he could sense rather than hear that he was scaring them both.
Tony did not want to be responsible for striking fear into the mighty Leroy Jethro Gibbs.
It should have been an impossibility.
Gibbs considered Tony's advice and hoped like hell he wouldn't have to put it to use. He lifted his hand off Tony's back while the shudder passed through him at the thought of his agent flailing like a fish while he and Abby stood helplessly by. He laid his hand on DiNozzo's back again, frowning tightly as he realized Tony was shaking harder than ever now that he had stopped screaming.
"Dammit, DiNozzo," he whispered, feeling Tony's flinch even though he had barely breathed the words. "And people say I'm the stubborn bastard."
Tony didn't respond. He just lay there, shaking like a fault line under Gibbs' gentle hand.
"Scream, Tony," Gibbs said, feeling inexplicably sad. "Just scream. We can handle it."
The look on Abby's face said otherwise, but Gibbs knew she would just have to suck it up and deal. Tony needed them to be strong for him because he couldn't at the moment. DiNozzo had held both of them together more times than Gibbs cared to admit, and he was determined to return the favor.
Tony didn't scream, though, and Gibbs wondered where the young man had gotten his strength from. Knowing what he did of DiNozzo's childhood, he could pretty much rule out his father as a source of that incredible grit and determination. That Gibbs never even thought to consider himself a source was at least a partial answer to the question.
Gibbs lifted his hands long enough to sign to Abby. *Can you reach anyone on that?* he signed, pointing to the computer.
"Not nice to talk with your hands," Tony murmured, sounding dazed.
Gibbs wondered not for the first time why DiNozzo didn't just give in and let himself pass out. Gibbs figured the pain had to be bad enough to make that a possibility—otherwise, his agent wouldn't be reduced to a screaming ball on the floor. The truth, though, was that Tony had been trying to give up the fight but every time he sank close enough to oblivion to feel the pain's crushing grip ease just the tiniest bit, his body would jerk him awake and he would be back to square one. He didn't know if it was some instinct for self-preservation or some cosmic cruelty, but he hated it all the same.
*They locked down the network as tight as the building,* Abby signed, her frustration showing in the jerky movements of her normally fluid hands.
Gibbs made one succinct sign back that Tony would have recognized had he been looking.
He was too busy trying not to scream. He had heard the impossible shade of fear darkening his boss's voice and was determined to hold it together—for them as much as for himself.
At least as long as he could.
And it turns out it wasn't long before Tony started keening again, unable to stop the cries from escaping.
Abby buried her face in her knees, wanting nothing more than to go curl up in Gibbs' arms and let him chase away all of the demons. But she knew he would have already if he could, and she felt her distress mount tenfold. She tended to need her gods to be almighty.
Gibbs closed his eyes and breathed deeply, wondering how long Tony would be forced to suffer. He knew the medication usually took a bit to kick in, but he had never seen DiNozzo in such prolonged pain. And there was no relief coming because Tony's needles were up in his desk. That made Gibbs angry, and even though he felt bad for directing his anger at his suffering agent, he couldn't help the words that tumbled from his mouth.
"Why the hell don't you have your needles on you?"
Abby's head jerked up as if pulled by a string from a cruel puppeteer above. Her eyes were wide, her mouth hanging slightly open in a soft black O of shock.
Tony didn't respond at first, and Gibbs entertained the futile, desperate hope that he hadn't heard him. But then green eyes opened, staring up at Gibbs with an equal mixture of agony and hurt, the latter not even remotely rooted in the physical.
"Forgot to strap 'em on this morning," he said, unable to keep either variety of pain out of his voice. "Didn't think we were leaving the building today." He coughed a laugh that turned into a gasp. "Never imagined we'd be locked up in the building."
Gibbs read the anguish in his tone—and the subtle undertones of anger. He had no idea if DiNozzo was pissed at himself for leaving the needles or pissed at him for bringing up that moot point at a time like this.
Gibbs was only slightly surprised when Tony continued despite how much he knew talking was hurting him.
"Don't need you to remind me I screwed up," he whispered, burying his face in his arms again. "My skull splitting open is enough of a reminder."
The effort of forcing out the words swept a cape of blackness over him, and Tony tried to give in to the dark. But his body again stayed stubbornly awake, excruciatingly aware. He knew there were fresh tears streaming down his face, but he also knew they were quickly soaking into his sleeves unnoticed by anyone but him.
And that suited him just fine.
He released Gibbs' arm, realizing with a rush of shame that he had dug tiny crescents into the flesh with his fierce grip and had left marks that would probably turn to bruises.
"I'm sorry," he said, suddenly needing to be far away from Gibbs. And his boss wasn't moving so Tony pushed himself up and tried to get to his knees.
The movement was too much too quickly, though, and his last thought before the wave of unconsciousness washed mercifully over him was: Finally.
Gibbs and Abby watched Tony try to get up only to collapse back down into a limp heap. Gibbs knew they both were feeling relief that he wasn't suffering anymore—along with worry for the same reason. Gibbs reached out to check his agent's pulse, but just as the fingers contacted his throat, Tony started convulsing on the hard tile floor.
Abby gasped in horror as she watched her best friend flop like a fish out of water in the corner of her usually serene lab. She had no idea how Gibbs shoved aside his own panic and pulled the flailing body away from the walls and knelt over him, firm hands on Tony's arms to pin them to his sides. Tony's head thrashed from side to side, but Gibbs could do nothing about it.
Really, Gibbs couldn't do anything but hold Tony down and ride out the seizure with him.
"Goddammit. This is not happening. Please, stop. Tony, please. I don't know if you can hear me, but please. You have to stop. Please, Tony. Goddammit, DiNozzo, now is not the time to start disobeying orders. I'll never headslap you again, okay? Please, Tony. Just stop. Goddammit."
Gibbs didn't even realize he was speaking his thoughts out loud until Abby gave a sob muffled by shaking hands clamped over her mouth. He stopped pleading with his unconscious agent and simply held him down, keeping Tony's convulsing body as still as possible.
The seizure lasted no more than a minute, but Gibbs' muscles were aching by the time Tony finally stopped jerking beneath him.
Gibbs suddenly found the lack of any movement almost as terrifying as the flailing had been, and he put a trembling hand on DiNozzo's chest to make sure he was still breathing. The unsteady rise and fall was both comforting and frightening all at once.
*Recovery position, Gibbs,* Abby signed.
Gibbs nodded, taking a moment to note Abby's extra-pale face and shaking hands. He wasn't sure if the signing was leftover from their earlier conversation or if she was reverting because she was terrified and that was what she always did when scared beyond words.
Gibbs looked down at Tony, laid out flat on his back, and he knew Abby was right about putting him into the recovery position so he could breathe easily and not choke any of his own fluids. He took the arm closest to him and stretched it out straight, pointing it away from the body. Taking Tony's far arm, he tucked it under the agent's face so his cheek was resting on his hand. He slid his hand under Tony's far knee, bending the leg and pulling Tony toward him and onto his side while using his free hand to keep his head still. He made sure Tony's airway was clear and looked around for a blanket to cover the unnervingly still body.
"You keep a blanket down here?" he asked, hoping Abby would snap out of her fog.
*Not a good idea. It's hot as hell since they shut down the AC because of the threat,* she signed back.
"Good thinking, Abbs," he said, watching her frown when she should have been beaming at the compliment.
Gibbs looked down at Tony, feeling helpless again and wondering how long he would be out. He almost hoped it would be long enough for help to arrive, but he also had no idea what had happened inside DiNozzo's head to make him seize in the first place. He knew migraines could cause seizures without anything underlying being a factor, and he figured Tony's struggle to get away from him hadn't helped. But just the thought of burst blood vessels and strokes and other catastrophic brain injuries had Gibbs gently easing one of Tony's eyelids open to check for damage in the only place he could without a CT scanner—or one of Ducky's bone saws.
He was infinitely grateful to find only clear green staring unseeingly back at him. He finished his earlier attempt and put two fingers to Tony's throat, nearly falling over in relief at finding the pulse strong and steady under his touch.
"You sure never do anything by halves, do you, DiNozzo?" he whispered, leaving his hand resting gently on Tony's neck, needing to feel that reassuring beat of his heart.
Gibbs looked up and saw he had gotten a tiny smile out of Abby with that.
*Is it wrong that I'm glad he's unconscious?* she signed, biting on her lip as she stared at her friend's limp body.
"He's not hurting this way," Gibbs said, speaking both to try to get Abby to follow suit and because he really didn't want to move his hand from Tony's pulse.
*But is he okay?*
Gibbs sighed. "I don't know, Abbs," he said truthfully, feeling Tony jerk under his hand and wondering if seizures had aftershocks or if the agent was coming around.
He felt another surge of infuriating frustration that Ducky was a floor below them, completely oblivious to the medical emergency playing out over his unwitting head. Gibbs wondered if that was true though, considering how loud Tony's screaming had been. But Gibbs also knew no one complained about Abby's deafening music so he doubted the doctor had heard a thing.
*What do we do now?* Abby signed, her hands moving quickly and not waiting for Gibbs' response. *He's probably not okay considering he's out cold, and he needs medical attention because he just had a damn seizure in the middle of my lab, and I know strange things happen down here, but this isn't strange, it's just—* They both heard the click of the door being released and Abby continued out loud, "—awful and we have to help him."
Gibbs smiled, his relief showing on his face as he pulled his cell to call for help. Abby was already on the phone to Ducky.
They hung up at the same time, and Gibbs suddenly found himself with an armful of crying Abby. He soothed her as best as he could, realizing how hard it had been for her to keep up her brave face and not do this hours ago.
"He's going to be fine, Abbs," he murmured, looking over her shoulder at the unconscious subject of his words and wondering if he had the right to project the confidence he didn't feel.
Gibbs paced the halls at Bethesda later that evening, the ferocity of his glares sending even the most hardened and battle-weary nurses scurrying away. Rather impressive, considering many of them had served overseas in actual war zones.
Tony had yet to wake up, and all Gibbs could think about was the way the young man's body had been convulsing under his. He could almost feel the jerky spasms of the seizure again, and he balled his hands into fists and thought about putting one through the face of the next doctor who had the audacity to tell him to stay calm and be patient.
It was a good thing that doctor was Ducky.
The ME found Gibbs prowling the hall outside Tony's room and figured the agent hadn't been able to sit still and wait at DiNozzo's bedside. Ducky knew the restlessness wasn't simply the result of caffeine.
"Jethro, please," Ducky said, brave enough to put a hand on Gibbs' arm. The doctor examined the bruising on Gibbs' forearm and could guess at its origin. "You need to calm down before you stroke out on me."
Gibbs turned furious eyes on his longtime friend. "How can you joke about that? We don't know if he—"
"He didn't, Jethro," Ducky interrupted gently. "That is what I came to tell you. His brain scans are all fine. No signs of strokes or bleeding or any of the many complications of a seizure such as he had."
"Then why is he still unresponsive?" Gibbs asked wearily, his relief at that news obliterating his anger and revealing the deep exhaustion underneath. He had been through hostage situations that left him feeling less drained than the past few hours had. "And that's a stupid term. DiNozzo's so good at hiding that he can be unresponsive wide awake."
Ducky almost smiled at that and carefully weighed his answer before speaking. "He suffered through severe pain for a long while before seizing. His body is likely exhausted from the effort of battling it—and his reaction to it. Abigail told me he was alternately screaming and keeping silent, and the strength it took to keep himself from putting voice to the agony was no doubt extremely draining."
"I told him to scream, Duck," Gibbs said, feeling guilty that he hadn't been able to do more for his friend. "I knew it was killing him not to, but he wouldn't listen to me."
"I'm sure he just didn't want to scare you. Or young Abby," Ducky added quickly, seeing Gibbs' wince. "Anthony likes to play the fool, but he knows perfectly well just how frightening this had to have been. For both of you. And without getting into the atrocities of his childhood, we both know Anthony hates being a burden. Especially to those he truly cares about. That includes you, Jethro."
Ducky wasn't expecting Gibbs to agree. Or to rub hands roughly over his tired face.
"I don't think he likes me right now," Gibbs said softly, not meeting Ducky's eyes. "Or he wouldn't if he was awake."
Understanding dawned in the doctor's eyes. "You don't want to be there when he wakes."
Gibbs would have been impressed by Ducky's perception had it been a random case and not something so deeply personal. "I snapped at him for not having his needles on him. It was the last thing I said to him before the seizure," Gibbs admitted to the floor.
Ducky nodded, wondering how best to handle this. Gibbs didn't often admit to wrongdoing so the doctor knew he must be feeling rather badly about his comment. "First," Ducky said evenly, "you snap at him all the time. He can handle it. And second, he should have his needles on him at all times. He knows there is no substitute for the medication in them, and he knows how bad the pain will get without it. You drill the importance of being prepared and learning to anticipate into your agents from day one. He did screw up."
Gibbs thought about that for a moment. "I don't think telling him that between his screams of pain was exactly a good idea," he said quietly.
"No," Ducky agreed. "Probably not. But it doesn't make you wrong."
Gibbs didn't speak.
"Why did you say it, Jethro?" Ducky asked, knowing the likely answer.
"I…" Gibbs started, sighing. "I was scared, Duck. He was hurting, and I couldn't do anything about it. And with him shrieking like that…" Gibbs broke off with a shudder, hoping he would never have to hear someone suffer through that much pain ever again. It brought out long-buried memories of combat, and he forced his thoughts elsewhere. "And I was pissed, too. He knows better. He should have had the needles on him. He needs to take better care of himself."
"Considering his childhood," Ducky said, "you'll have to forgive him for not taking care of himself. I highly doubt anyone ever showed him how to do it."
Ducky was rarely that succinct so Gibbs waited for the rest.
"Or that he was worth taking care of," Ducky added. He sighed. "You need to go in there, Jethro. The lad is, unfortunately, quite used to waking up in the hospital with you at his side. If you are not the first person he sees when he wakes, he's going to think you're still angry with him."
"I'm not, Ducky," Gibbs said, sounding much older than his years. "The opposite, I think."
"Ah," Ducky said sagely. "You're still scared."
No one else but the amiable old doctor could have gotten away with a blunt statement like that. But Gibbs was glad Ducky had voiced what he couldn't. "He's… He means a lot to me," Gibbs said thickly. "When I was there with him during the seizure, practically sitting on him to keep him from hurting himself, I felt… And I realized just how much…"
Ducky nodded, knowing Gibbs had said all he was able on that subject. "You did absolutely the right thing, by the way. You kept him safe, and didn't try any silliness of keeping him from swallowing his tongue or any other such nonsense."
Gibbs smiled ruefully. "He told me not to. Said I'd only get my fingers bitten."
Ducky smiled, thinking about how very DiNozzo it was of the agent to be facing a possible seizure and worrying about Gibbs not getting hurt. "He's going to be fine, Jethro. He should be waking soon."
Gibbs nodded, heading for the room. "And I should be there when he does."
Tony awoke feeling groggy and confused. He knew he was in a hospital, had vague memories of blinding pain, and found himself fighting the odd feeling that he had done something wrong.
As if doing something right ever leads to mind-numbing pain and hospitals? he questioned his own thoughts, confusing himself even more trying to remember what he was thinking about.
"What?" he murmured, wishing someone would turn off the buzzing and realizing slowly that it was coming from his own head. He figured he could deal with the oddity (sanity? okay insanity) of answering his own thoughts out loud at a later time. Preferably when he knew exactly where he was and why he was there.
"Tony?"
He didn't need the voice or to open his eyes to know for certain who was in the room with him. He could smell coffee and sawdust, and the latter made him wonder if he had been unconscious long enough for Gibbs to go home, build a boat, sail the seven seas and come back to sit vigil over him.
"Boss?" he said, wondering why it sounded like a question even though he knew who was with him.
He would have known even without the sensory clues.
"Yeah, DiNozzo, it's me," Gibbs said softly, his hand finding Tony's. "You'd know that for sure if you opened your eyes."
"They're not open?" Tony asked, sounding dazed. He cracked an eyelid and was surprised—and more relieved than he had ever been in his life—to find that the minimal light from the hallway wasn't setting his retinas on fire. "Oh. That's better. I think."
Gibbs smiled in relief even as he watched Tony squint at him, his green eyes hazy as a summer afternoon. Gibbs' smile faded as Tony's frown lingered.
"You okay?"
"Mmmmmm," Tony breathed, fighting the urge to rub the lingering pain from his temples. "What happened?"
Gibbs' hand tightened on Tony's. "You don't remember?"
Tony's frown deepened as he tried to fight his way through the cotton stuffing his head. " 'S kind of fuzzy," he admitted softly, giving in and closing his eyes again. He wondered if people who didn't suffer from migraines even knew how lucky they were to be able to keep their eyes open whenever they wanted. He also wondered if they knew the sheer bliss of relief that closing them could bring.
Gibbs released Tony's hand at the slightly slurred words and obvious confusion in his agent. "I'm going to get your doctor," he said, standing.
"Wait," Tony protested. He opened his eyes again and blinked several times to try to get his boss in focus. "I'm okay. It's normal for people to be confused after a seizure. Don't worry, Gibbs. Everything's fine."
Gibbs sat again, shaking his head. "You know you're the one in the hospital bed, right?"
Tony cocked his head. "Yeah. I'm not that out of it. And the draft up my backside is a pretty good clue. Why?"
Gibbs gave him a half-smile. "So I should be the one comforting you, you know."
Tony just smiled back, closing his eyes against the remnants of pain scattered through his head.
Gibbs watched him, something nagging at the back of his mind. He finally got his exhausted brain to latch onto it, and he asked, "How did you know you had a seizure if you don't remember what happened?"
"I'm an investigator, Boss," Tony said cryptically. He opened his eyes to find Gibbs looking at him patiently. Patiently? What the hell? he thought, cursing his seizure for making Gibbs so very un-Gibbs, which was as extraordinary as the undead—only much, much scarier. "My head hurts so I must have had a migraine. Nothing else hurts so I must have had a seizure."
Gibbs was looking at him like he was insane.
Welcome back, Gibbs.
"Only other time a migraine landed me in the big house—hospital, not jail, and yes I find it disturbing that I have to make that distinction—was when said migraine led to a seizure."
Tony saw the cogs turning in Gibbs' head and he started speaking again to head off questions about that unpleasant experience. "I kind of remember being in Abby's lab with … alarms? Oh right. The bio threat. How'd that work out? I don't remember much other than an embarrassing amount of screaming on my part and then…?"
He looked at Gibbs with flaming cheeks, hoping he would fill in some of the blanks—or not. What he remembered was bad enough.
Gibbs wasn't sure he was ready for that part yet—if he even wanted to bring up what an ass he had been to Tony.
"Threat neutralized without anyone getting hurt," Gibbs said. And you still managed to end up in the hospital, he thought ruefully, unwilling to put voice to it lest Tony take it the wrong way."How do you know your headache isn't from a concussion?"
"Different kind of pain," Tony said, trying to follow the conversation and hoping Gibbs wouldn't notice how difficult it was. He tried to cover his confusion with a distraction. "I've found concussions radiate from a single point—usually whatever I managed to crack my head on. Lingering migraines leave a general all-over ache."
Gibbs eyed him. "So what you're telling me is that you're in pain?"
Tony frowned even as he tried not to smile. "Sneaky, Gibbs. Not nice."
Gibbs rolled his eyes and moved to get up.
"I'm fine, Boss," Tony said quickly, not wanting to attract a doctor's attention. He knew it would involve bright lights shined into eyes that hadn't quite recovered from the day's light assault.
"You're in a hospital now with damned good drugs close by," Gibbs said, looking down sternly at his agent. "There's no damned good reason for you to suffer, DiNozzo."
The words sparked a memory, and Tony spoke without thinking, "You're still mad at me for leaving my needles?"
Gibbs paused, his face giving away nothing. "We'll talk about this later," he said, thinking, when you're not squinting at me and reminding me of you shrieking in pain. Or convulsing in my arms.
"Gibbs."
Gibbs waited.
Tony cocked his head slightly. "I know I should have had my needles with me, Gibbs. I know I'm scary to be around when I get like that." He paused, studying his boss's face in the dim light. "And I know you didn't mean to snap at me. Okay?"
Gibbs felt torn between relief at Tony's being able to say what he probably couldn't have and sadness at the way his agent was looking at him as if Tony were waiting to be forgiven. He mostly was just hoping Tony, who could obviously read him so well, also knew how much Gibbs cared for him even if he could never express it.
Gibbs nodded, swallowing the sudden emotions. "Okay, Tony."
Abby watched Tony's breathing from the doorway for a few moments before whispering, "Faker."
The agent's eyes snapped open. "Oh, sorry. I thought you were Gibbs."
Abby's expression darkened and Tony noticed both that and that she wasn't wearing makeup. He had a brief flash of memory of her sobbing, and he tried not to feel bad about that.
"You're still mad at him?" she asked tentatively, as if a positive result might crush her world.
Tony smiled. "Nah. We're good. We even talked. That's why I was faking. He looks exhausted and I thought maybe he would go home if he thought I was asleep."
Abby gave him a look. "He wouldn't."
"I know," Tony said simply.
She came and went to sit, grinning when he rolled his eyes at her and patted the bed next to him. She lay down beside him, carefully avoiding wires and IV lines with a practiced ease that she didn't want to think about. She put her head in the crook of his shoulder and rested a black-nailed hand on his chest, relishing the soft, steady rise and fall of his even breathing.
"I'm fine, Abbs," he said softly, turning his head and planting a kiss in her dark hair. "You can stop counting my respirations."
He felt her smile against his side, and he continued, "And I'm sorry about putting you through that."
"I'm sorry I couldn't stay beside you the whole time," she said, sighing and draping a black-clad leg over his thigh. She banished the knowledge that he was wearing nothing but a hospital gown—because they were strictly friends, and she wanted to keep it that way. She loved him too much for it to be any other way. "It was just so damned hard watching you…"
Screaming, she thought, but she couldn't finish. He didn't really want her to. And she knew it.
"I'm just glad you're okay," she said. "And that Gibbs was there. I'm not sure I could have handled the seizure like he did."
Tony's hand tightened on her shoulder, making her feel perfectly safe in the circle of his arms. She could only hope that he was feeling as comforted by their closeness as she was.
"You would have handled it. You would have found a way."
She felt a rush of warmth at his absolute faith in her. "Yeah," she agreed, knowing she would do anything for him, "but Gibbs totally handled it. I mean, he practically jumped on you to keep you from hurting yourself, and I gotta tell you… even though I shouldn't… but I want to…"
"Spit it out, Abbs?" Tony requested, his confusion not a result of the seizure this time.
"Well, I know you two are both as straight as that arrow you found sticking through the dead JAG lady that one time," Abby said, making Tony turn bewildered eyes down to her face, "but it was kind of hot with Gibbs on top of you."
"Abby!" Tony cried, feeling his cheeks burn.
"I know," she said, trying not to laugh at the comical shock on his face. "And I know you were totally out of it and having a seizure and Gibbs was pleading with you to stop, but in all honesty, the only thing that got me through it without completely losing my mind was that one incredibly hot fantasy."
Tony was silent long enough for Abby to start worrying that she had offended him.
But he finally just said, with a smile in his voice, "You are one strange chick, Sciuto."
Abby grinned but tried to sound sad. "So my fantasy will being staying a fantasy, huh?"
"Um, yeah, Abbs," Tony said, shaking his head. "Gibbs is a lot of things, but he's also been like a father to me when I needed one."
"And you're like a son to him," Abby said, abandoning the fantasy. She read Tony's insecurity in his silence and she said, "Don't even try to lie to me, DiNozzo. You know he cares about you. It's why he yelled at you about the needles. Because it was killing him to see you hurting like that and it was beyond frustrating not being able to help you.
"You know he cares about you," she repeated into the silence.
"Yeah," Tony finally said, yawning and closing his eyes, his arm tightening around the Goth curled against his side. "I know."
Out in the hallway, Gibbs caught the very end of the conversation.
He smiled.
And went for more coffee.