Gibbs woke groggily to a strange noise.
One good thing – no disorientation. The concussion's worst effects were already over. He knew where he was, he knew who he was, he knew who else was in the apartment.
But what the hell was that damn noise? Sounded like a mixture of squeaking and crunching.
Flipping the blanket aside, he slid his feet to the floor and automatically suppressed the groan that tried to escape. The worst effects of the concussion may have passed, but he still had a nasty headache.
Following his nose, he found a thermos of hot coffee on the table in front of him.
He drank the entire contents without stopping for a breath, then looked over at the other couch. No blanket, no debris, everything neat. DiNozzo was up.
Standing stiffly, he saw both Ducky and DiNozzo were in the kitchen, producing the unknown sound. He moved closer to find the cause.
Tony swallowed and produced a megawatt smile. "Morning Gibbs. Hungry?"
Whatever he was eating looked threatening, and produced the undesirable noise when chewed upon. Gibbs considered backing up, but the coffee was in the kitchen.
He stalked forward slowly, hugging the opposite counter, only to see Ducky bite into the same monstrosity.
"What the hell, Duck?"
"Anthony offered to make me his power breakfast. It consists of peanut butter toast topped with chopped celery, banana slices, and Cheerios. It's much better than it sounds." The ME pronounced "Cheerios" as if it were a foreign word. It probably was, in his household. "And it's certainly better than it looks. If prepared correctly, as I understand, everything melts slightly around the edges from the toasted bread producing an – interesting – texture."
Both men in the kitchen took large bites of their crunchy green-brown goo-toast and looked at Gibbs expectantly, as though waiting for him to request his own portion.
He poured coffee into his cup without looking away from them. Burning his hand on spilled hot liquid was preferable to taking his eyes off of the lunatics.
Retreating back to the couch, he checked his watch and pulled out his cell, dialing probie #1.
It was answered quickly. "Gibbs! Are you okay? Abby told us you were in that pileup on the highway. They're still working on towing all the vehicles out – there were so many…"
Well, shit.
He had recognized the fact that his car – the motorpool's car, really, but his current method of transportation – was wrecked, but he hadn't fully realized the implications of that yesterday.
He had no wheels.
Sipping his coffee, he eyed DiNozzo. Maybe he could steal the detective's wheels.
Ignoring Greene's excited questions, he ordered, "What's the status of the warrant for the clinic's patient information?"
"It's ready. You can talk to the admin as soon as you can get there; I just got off the phone with her, she's there already. She'll have copies of Collins' files waiting for you."
Gibbs grunted and returned to his transportation thoughts while Greene continued peppering him with ignorable questions. Apparently he was less intimidating on the phone.
Thinking to rectify that fact by hanging up, he moved to do so – but stilled his hand when he tuned in to what the kid was saying.
"…the footage is grainy and dark, but it's still amazing. That was so impressive, boss. You just jumped on that car and tossed the girl off without even considering where you'd end up. And Detective DiNozzo – he must've leapt ten feet at once. It looks like he missed you at first – then you can see he's pulling your arm, that he's got you. It's seriously like a movie. And then when he's almost got you up, he gets grazed by that SUV. I can't believe getting smacked in the back with a truck didn't send him over the edge! How is he? Is he even moving around yet?"
Gibbs hung up.
He finished his coffee and set the cup down on the table.
He stood and walked back into the kitchen.
Considered the way Tony was standing. There was something stiff about his posture that the knee didn't account for. He seemed at ease, leaning against the counter with his crutches discarded several feet away, but his back was barely touching the surface behind him.
Gibbs slapped the underside of DiNozzo's hand, sending the rest of his breakfast flying into the sink. Though DiNozzo was not slow to react, he lost a precious half-second in surprise, affording Gibbs the opportunity to pull up and outward on the man's shirt, forcing him further from the counter and revealing his back.
The right half of his back and his right side were purple and black. Something not healthy oozed out of a scrape the size of watermelon. The entire mess disappeared below the detective's waistband; presumably his hip was in a similar condition.
Immediately full of rage but with nowhere handy to vent it, Gibbs dropped his hold on DiNozzo's shirt before glaring into his eyes.
A smart move, as it turned out, as the detective was getting ready for a fight.
Oh, Gibbs wanted to pound some sense into the dumbfuck. He wanted nothing more. But pain was apparently not a method by which DiNozzo learned.
Stalking away, he angrily grabbed up the remote from the coffee table, hitting the power button. The screen brightened to a local news program, whose anchors were talking about the storm and its effects.
He was aware that both Ducky and DiNozzo warily came out of the kitchen and were standing behind him. All three were silent.
Gibbs' eyes did not leave the television. He waited.
"And here again is the amazing footage of two unknown heroes who apparently worked their way through the wreckage of dozens of cars, lending aid where they could, until finally almost perishing themselves in the daring rescue of a young girl."
Ignoring the sensationalized language, Gibbs walked closer to the television, until he was within touching distance.
Some yahoo with a camera in their car had caught the whole mess on tape. Gibbs, a dark blur, ran across the screen and scooped the girl up, tossing her free of the toppling car.
He fell.
Just as Greene said, DiNozzo made a last leap that didn't seem humanly possible, then dangled half over the edge as though defeated, watching his partner fall to the pavement below.
It was startling to see DiNozzo pull back with a mighty heave, an obvious counterweight on the other side.
He was too damn far over the side of the overpass. Very near to falling himself.
The DiNozzo on screen kept pulling. The video was shot from fairly far away, but you could still see the strain in his muscles, the constant tension. Finally, a pale hand appeared over the top.
Just as the videographer started to cheer, one of the SUV's they'd earlier tied to the car in danger slipped across the icy road and clipped the detective in the side.
Tony's feet lost purchase, and for a stomach-dropping moment he was airborne.
Then his feet slammed into the side of the guardrail, digging in. The camera wielder was too far away to pick up the sound, but Gibbs imagined he could hear the pop of DiNozzo's knee as he turned and pushed against his own purchase, refusing to let go of Gibbs.
Finally, in a split second, Tony found his purchase, gained his balance, and hauled his partner over the side in one smooth motion, where both landed in a heap on the ground just as the guardrail gave way, and the SVU went plummeting down to the road below.
Gibbs reached to turn the screen off, but paused with arm and remote extended when he saw DiNozzo's form rise up off of the pavement on one leg and wave down one of the medics who were starting to arrive on scene. The EMT came over but quickly moved away with a "stay here" motion of his hands, apparently off to continue sorting out any victims of the pileup who were in more immediate, life-threatening danger.
DiNozzo looked lost for a moment. Then he slowly took off his jacket and used it to cover the unconscious Gibbs on the ground, and sat in the slushy snow beside him, apparently to await the medic's return.
Gibbs' rage still existed, but it had been banished to the background, a wallpaper upon which a new and uncomfortable emotion hung boldly upon.
His stomach, lungs and esophagus braided together, he turned off the television and stood staring at the black screen, thankful neither of the men behind him spoke as he composed himself.
Gibbs was not particularly used to having to compose himself.
He heard DiNozzo move. Unsure what to expect, he was mildly surprised that no doors slammed, and the apartment door to the hallway didn't open.
Instead, he heard gentle noises from the kitchen, and then a small protesting noise from Ducky – the kind of noise the ME unknowingly made when finding something particularly disturbing on an autopsy patient, like signs of abuse on a child.
Gibbs gently put the remote down on the table and walked back to the kitchen.
He expected a fight.
What he got was a question.
"So…" Tony held out a freshly made bread and goo concoction, "You don't want a power breakfast?"
Gibbs stared at him, honestly baffled for the first time in years.
DiNozzo shrugged. "More for me." He continued to eat until the entire mess was gone, staring Gibbs in the eye the entire time.