A/N: Well it's now tomorrow and as promised I have another chapter for you. CD57 here's a really long chapter for you.

As usual, thanks to all of you for such excellent reviews, and yes memnoxx I do know that killing Gibbs off is not an option...but nobody said almost killing him isn't :P

Gibbs awoke disorientated, lying on a cold floor with his lower legs in something wet and sticky. He sat up suddenly and instantly regretted it, but he did not lie back down, instead groaning and pushing himself up against the wall, blinking furiously to clear his fuzzy vision. As he surveyed the grizzly scene in front of him, Gibbs realised Smith was dead – he certainly could not survive such massive blood loss. The blood was pooling around the lifeless body and spreading out, seeping along the corridor in both directions. Gibbs forced himself to turn away as he began to feel unusually queasy and to focus on finding his way out. Deciding he had probably turned around to face Smith before he had been shot, Gibbs tried to stand, but his legs were like jelly.

C'mon Jethro, get up! Get up, damn it!

Finally, by manoeuvring his legs underneath him with his relatively pain-free arm, he managed to get up. He proceeded to stumble down the corridor, again using the wall for support and finally reached a door. The marine hesitated as he reached for the handle, fleetingly doubting his reasoning behind choosing the direction he had staggered in and worrying about more hostiles being on the other side of the door. Nonetheless, quashing his reservations, Gibbs turned the handle and pushed the door weakly. He was amazed that he even had the strength to push it forwards and so stuck his left hand through the gap to stop it swinging shut.

Tony and Ziva froze as the door they were walking towards and about to breach swung open and a single hand appeared. "NCIS! Freeze!" The pair yelled in unison.

"Come out with your hands where we can..." Tony added. He paused as he noticed a metal bracelet on the wrist, glinting in the strong sunlight, and the blood running down the arm and dripping onto the concrete. There was only one person Tony knew who wore a silver bracelet on his left wrist.

"Gibbs..." He muttered, making the Mossad officer turn to him, a shocked expression on her face. He called out to the person behind the door, "Boss? ...Is that you, Gibbs?" The door swung open fully and the pair stood rooted to the spot. It was Gibbs. They had found him. Immediately, Tony lowered his weapon, holstering it at his side, and started forwards, while Ziva dialled for an ambulance and also called Dr. Mallard.

Gibbs walked unsteadily through the open door then stopped, staring at the two people standing in front of him, their weapons drawn. One of them was calling to him, but he could not make out what the man was saying. Gibbs raised his own weapon, causing the advancing man to stop. "...Boss?" It was a soft, coaxing call – not meant to threaten – and the voice sounded gentle and genuinely concerned. There was no hint of hostility in it, but Gibbs still was not sure and his eyes flickered between the man and the woman on the phone. The man took another step forward but stopped again as Gibbs pulled back the hammer, clicking it into place, "It's me, Tony." Again the voice, only just penetrating the buzzing in Gibbs' ears, was comforting and the man took another step forward. Gibbs squinted at the man. There was something familiar about him, something reassuring. "We found you...Jethro." At the mention of his first name, Gibbs eyes snapped to the man's face. "T-Tony?" His voice sounded embarrassingly weak, it was almost a whisper. Gibbs watched as his senior field agent beamed at him, "Are you alright, DiNozzo?" The question would have drawn a laugh from Tony's lips but the seriousness of their situation prevented it. Every day Anthony DiNozzo was stunned by his boss' selflessness, and it made him proud to be a member of Gibbs' team.

Tony closed the gap between them to just a few strides and then responded to Gibbs' question, "Yeah Gibbs, we're all fine – Abby and the director are at the Navy Yard with McGee, Ziva's here with me and Ducky and Palmer are on their way here. We're all ok." He paused, wondering whether Gibbs would respond to his next question in a Gibbs way or like a normal, not infallible person. "Are you alright, Gibbs?" As if in answer to his query, Gibbs swayed and Tony took another few steps forward, reaching out to steady the rocking man, but Gibbs jerked away, his expression one that Tony had never seen before – pure, animal fear. "He said you'd left me behind." The older man said, then coughed harshly, spraying the tarmac with a fine mist of blood. Again Tony reached for him only to have Gibbs stumble away, clutching his ribs protectively.

God, Gibbs, what has that animal done to you?

"No!" He countered Gibbs' accusation a little louder than he had intended, and the volume set Gibbs on an even thinner knife edge than he was already balanced precariously on. Tony lowered his voice back to the soothing whisper of before, "You're like a father to me, Gibbs. I would never, ever even consider leaving you behind. You taught me better than that." The sincere assurance seemed to calm the nervous man – he let the pistol drop to the ground – and he took a few short steps forwards, still however giving Tony a wide berth. Thinking he would keep walking to the car, Tony hung back and observed the man's injuries.

After a further few steps, Gibbs felt his legs give way and collapsed to his knees, dizziness pervading his skull and sending waves of nausea rippling through him. Instantly Tony was at his side, gently lowering him to the ground, careful to avoid his injured ribs. As he was sitting on the ground, cradling Gibbs' damaged torso as he had done after Ari had infiltrated NCIS, Tony realised how cold the man was and tore off his suit jacket in order to drape it over his colleague. For the first time in the past forty-eight hours, Gibbs felt secure: there was no suspect to chase, no enraged navy personnel to charge at him, no hostage takers beating him; just the comfort and safety of somebody else watching out for him. For the first time in the past forty-eight hours, Gibbs stopped fighting the pull of unconsciousness and closed his eyes. Tony, however, had other ideas, "No, no...Boss, wake up, at least until the medics get here." There was no response so Tony shook the man gently, eliciting a low groan from Gibbs but no other response.

"Tony, is he alright?" The voice behind him startled Tony.

"I don't know, Ziva. I think he's unconscious."

"Donkeyhole!" Ziva spat in disgust at the damage Smith had done. "I called an ambulance, and Ducky's on his way...Has he said anything about Smith?"

"No...I didn't ask." Tony replied, not even registering Ziva's mistake – too busy applying pressure to Gibbs' bleeding shoulder. "Shall I go and check out the storage rooms?" Ziva asked, already bored.

"No, wait until back-up arrives." Ziva opened her mouth to protest but Tony cut her off, "I don't want another of my team to come out looking like they've been through several wars and then gone back for more." He motioned to Gibbs as he provided the explanation.

"If we wait, he may escape, Tony. Gibbs would go after the guy." Tony's face turned a deep shade of red.

"David, you looked at the blueprints: there are no other exits, no windows, there aren't even any vents. If you go in there and Gibbs didn't kill that son of a bitch then you'd be walking straight into an ambush." The agent glanced down at the still unconscious Gibbs leaning against his chest then looked back at his friend, his voice softening slightly. "I don't know how I'd cope with only McGee to tease."

"Fine." She huffed and then walked back to the car.

Twenty Minutes Later

The back-up had arrived earlier than Tony expected, and Ziva instantly insisted on storming the building. So adamantly in fact that they spent the next ten minutes arguing over whether or not she should participate in such an action. Eventually Tony gave in to the Israeli's demand, waving her away. "Fine, go! I'll man the fort—" Tony broke off as Gibbs stirred.

"T-Tony? Zee...?" His voice was weak and husky and he could not suppress a hacking cough. Blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth as the coughing fit ended. Tony wiped it away and then helped him sit up so that he could breathe more easily. "I'm here boss. Ziva's just going to make sure you killed that bastard." Tony said, whilst absent-mindedly rubbing the man's back – something about which Gibbs did not complain, which worried Tony. The sound of more engines made Tony turn towards the sound – it was Ducky and the paramedics. He waved the medical examiner and his assistant over.

"What's Jethro got himself into this...Oh my!" Ducky muttered as he walked towards the two men sitting on the ground, and Gibbs' injuries became more apparent, "What happened, Tony?" He asked, kneeling at Gibbs' side and placing his fingers on his neck. The pulse he finally found was weak and thready, but it was there nonetheless. Silently, he nodded his approval at the pressure Tony was applying to the shoulder wound, although he was using a less than sanitary handkerchief to stem the bleeding. "I don't know, Ducky. Ziva and I were approaching the door when it opened. He collapsed as we were walking to the car." He paused to consider his next statement, "I grabbed him as he fell and now he's kinda pinning me to the ground. I couldn't take the car and leave Ziva here without back-up, but I couldn't let her go in by herself so I just stayed here...He's going to be alright isn't he, Duck?" Tony sounded as if he was pleading with Ducky to make it all better. Dr. Mallard sighed, not knowing whether to be truthful or overly-optimistic.

If anything happens to Gibbs, if he gets worse, Tony'll blame himself.

There was only one thing to say. "You mustn't blame yourself, Anthony. Gibbs certainly won't...In fact he'll probably be proud that you demonstrated such leadership and consideration for the situation."

Ducky rummaged in his medical bag for the bandages he always kept, just in case, and then looked up at Jimmy Palmer who was hovering uselessly above him, "Mr. Palmer, I suggest you collect whatever medical supplies you can find in the truck that will aid Agent Gibbs and bring them back here." The nervous young man immediately agreed and dashed back to the M.E.'s van. Ducky handed Tony a large wad of bandage to replace the blood-soaked handkerchief being pressed into the lifeless man's shoulder. He also wiped away the blood that caked the marine's face and used another, smaller wad to staunch the bleeding from the head wound, binding it in place with another, thinner bandage tied around Gibbs' head. "Has he been coughing blood?" Ducky asked, his hands hovering above Gibbs' chest.

"Yeah." Tony answered wearily, knowing what it meant.

"I need to check his ribs – he's probably punctured a lung." Tony just nodded – he knew how serious a punctured lung was, having had it explained to him after his partner in Baltimore PD had been shot in the chest, the bullet puncturing his lung. Ducky hesitantly ran his hands over Gibbs' ribs, cursorily counting the number that were actually broken. After the first check, he applied more pressure to make sure he had not missed any. It extracted another grumble from Gibbs, but he still refused to open his eyes – not that that would be easy as they had swollen shut. Immediately the Scot stopped and removed his hands. "Jethro?" The gunnery sergeant grunted in reply. "Jethro, I need you to open your eyes." Still no lucid response, "I know you can hear me, Jethro." Nothing.

Let's try a diff—

"Boss? It's Tony. Come on, wake up. Ducky's here." The younger man coaxed, reducing his voice to a soft whisper. "It's safe, Gibbs. I've got you." Ducky was surprised by the compassion in Tony's tone as he appealed to Gibbsonce more, "Open your eyes, Jethro."

"What...DiNozzo?" Gibbs hissed, the surrounding noise adding to his pounding headache.

"I'm sorry to cause you further pain, Jethro, but I need to take a look at that nasty shoulder wound you've picked up. Do you remember what happened?" Ducky inquired, watching as his patient took a long, shuddering breath. "Shotgun." Tony's eyebrows rose slightly.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that playing with guns is dangerous, dear boy?" Ducky said, trying to distract Gibbs from the pain he was causing as he probed his shoulder for the pellets that had embedded themselves in it. It did not work. Gibbs hissed and tensed at each prod. Instinctively, Tony slipped his hand into Gibbs' free one and squeezed it in support – surprised when Gibbs grasped it weakly.

When he had finished examining the shoulder, Ducky leant back to get a better look at his patient. A thin sheen of sweat coated Gibbs, he had turned a pale grey and his face was contorted in pain. "How bad is the pain, Gibbs?" Ducky did not really expect an answer but it was worth a shot – Gibbs simply took another juddering breath, "Jethro, On a scale of one to ten, how bad's the pain?"

He won't want to show any more weakness in front of his team, especially not Anthony, and it's worked before.

For the first time, Gibbs cracked open his eyes and studied DiNozzo's face then closed them with a sigh that came out more like a gurgle, "Eight." Without meaning to, Ducky glanced at Tony and saw the same degree of concern he felt etched on Tony's face: Gibbs would never normally go beyond a six, even with nobody else around.

Ducky motioned to the waiting paramedics and they hurried over without delay. He stood up then turned to Tony, "Stay with him, Anthony, even if he tells you to go." Tony nodded and then watched as Ducky went to meet the medics, engaging them in a long conversation about Gibbs' health. The NCIS agent did as he was told and stayed seated on the ground – not that he was going anywhere with his boss' deadweight pinning him to the ground. Gibbs had fallen unconscious again so Tony surveyed the scene playing out in the car park of the storage warehouse.

I've never realised how many agents get called to one our 'incidents'. I don't even know half of their names...I wonder if Gibbs does. Actually he probably knows every single one. I'll end up like that after seventeen years too...Man, I'll be old then. Gibbs'll have retired Ziva'll be working for some secret Israeli assassination group and McGee...McGee will probably be head of the cyber division at the pentagon.

He was broken suddenly from his reverie by Ziva whispering in his ear. "He's dead." The statement would have sent Tony jumping into the air had he not been weighed down by something heavy.

GIBBS!

His eyes flashed to his charge. However, Gibbs was still alive. The paramedics had fitted an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose, properly bandaged his shoulder and were inserting an IV into his right arm. Satisfied that Gibbs was not going to suddenly expire, Tony looked up at Ziva. "Smith. How?"

"Looks like Gibbs shot him in the hallway. All the other rooms are clear...We found the one where he was holding Gibbs."

"Do I want to know?" Tony asked, grimacing.

"You're going to find out soon enough, but it doesn't look too bad." Tony could not help but snort indignantly.

"Does this look 'not too bad' to you, David?" He growled, almost shouting, and motioning violently at the battered body lying on him.

"DiNozzo...stop moving...before I...fire your ass!"

"Shit! Sorry boss. I thought you were still unconscious." He turned back to Ziva, "Go talk to the manager of this hellhole, find out who's signed in and out within the last seventy-two hours. Then take photos of the scene and collect evidence and take it back to Abby ASAP." Ziva was speechless as she turned away and stalked off.

One of the medics caught his eye, "We're ready to move him now. Then you can get back to your crime scene."

"No, I'm coming with you."

"But sir—" The medic protested.

"I don't care if I have to sit on the roof – I'm coming with him." Tony said adamantly.

"Fine. Can you help us get him lying down and then we'll put him on a stretcher." Tony nodded and gently lifted Gibbs' once again limp body, allowing him to move his legs from under him. As he got himself into a crouching position, he slowly lowered the man to the ground. Not once did Gibbs moan – a testament to Tony's gentleness. As they wheeled Gibbs into the idling ambulance, Tony threw his keys to Palmer, "Give those to Ziva and tell Ducky we're going to Bethesda Naval." Leaving no chance for Jimmy to reply, Tony jumped into the back of the ambulance and pulled the doors shut. He settled in the seat next to the medic and studied the injured man's face. It was strange that the only time Gibbs really looked peaceful and relaxed was when he lay unconscious.

A/N: Is that enough angst for you CD57? Not so much team worrying, more Tony and Ducky worrying.

Reviews = Happiness

On another note (more of a rant actually but...) Why does Scotland get REALLY weird weather - one minute it's sunny, the next it's cloudy, then thunderstorms, then sunny AND raining and now it's just raining. Really heavily. *sigh*