By the time Ducky arrived, Gibbs was truly upset. He tried to get Tony to settle down, placing a cold compress on his head.
But the younger man just tossed, restlessly, occasionally looking at Gibbs with glassy eyes. "S'okay," he mumbled, "I'm okay Boss. Don't worry."
"Oh dear," Ducky sighed as he took in the sight of Tony's condition. He immediately got his thermometer out of his bag, passing it over Tony's damp forehead. The reading was immediate, "102.5 degrees." Ducky shook his head, looking at Gibbs. "If it goes up to 103, I'd say we have to take him to Bethesda. I would probably feel better if we took him now, but we can try to get the fever down and see."
Gibbs nodded gratefully. "What do we need?"
"Well firstly, get some water and Tylenol in him. Then a basin with cool water, a bottle of alcohol, and a few cloths to use as compresses. We'll need to get the shirt off at least to lay them on more of his body."
Gibbs quickly got everything Ducky asked for.
"Tony, sit up," he ordered, bringing in the Tylenol and water. Tony looked at him, confused at first, and then struggled up, taking the pills and swallowing down some water. He flopped back down on the bed, and suddenly looked at Ducky, as if just having noticed his presence.
"Hi Ducky," he said softly. "I'm not going back to the hospital am I? Cos' that would really suck."
"Not if we can help it, Tony. Can you sit up and take off your shirt?"
Tony nodded and struggled up again, flinging his tee shirt to the side after he'd gotten it over his head. The effort seemed to exhaust him, because then he closed his eyes for a while drifting. That was, until Ducky put the cold compresses on his skin.
He jumped and his eyes flew open. He gasped with the shock it gave his skin.
"Alright, I know, it's quite cold," Ducky soothed.
When Gibbs walked over to the bedside table to put more cloths beside the basin, Tony's eyes followed him, and became momentarily transfixed on it.
In his mind he saw the cart Michel had wheeled next to him, with the ceramic bowl used to hold Tony's blood.
He broke his gaze away, suddenly gasping for air.
"Tony-" Ducky began but Tony lunged away from him, kicking off the covers and stepping away from the bed. Gibbs went quickly to get hold of him, but Tony pushed away from him, stumbling into the living room.
"DiNozzo !" Gibbs growled at him, following him to where he weakened, and dropped to his knees next to the coffee table. Gibbs didn't understand what had happened to set him off, but Ducky had a better view of what happened.
As he knelt down next to Tony, he heard Ducky say, "It was the bowl…" and then Gibbs got it.
Tony was curled over himself, shaking, images of what Michel had done floating through his fevered mind. And Miranda's face, looking at him with that silent, desperate plea in her eyes. He choked on the words, "Right in front of me…" He pounded his fist into the floor, then screamed them, pounding some more, "Right. In. Front. Of. Me." He moaned in despair.
Gibbs stroked his back, remaining silent for the moment. Ducky stood a few feet from them, patiently, with anguish in his eyes.
Tony sat up suddenly and looked right at Gibbs, with his glassy eyes, more tears rolling down his face. "I couldn't move…" he choked out. And then whispered, "I was right there."
Gibbs took Tony's face in his hands and said firmly, "Not your fault. It is not your fault. You did not kill her, Tony. Gravois did. And there was no way you could do anything, with what he had already done to you." He stared into Tony's eyes, trying to embed the message into his brain.
Tony blinked a few times, brows knit together, and then nodded once. His burst of energy seemed to be flagging.
Gibbs let one of his hands drop around Tony's shoulders, and he gently scrubbed the side of Tony's head with the other. "Come on. Unless you wanna go to Bethesda, you have to let Ducky take care of you." Gibbs helped him up, slowly, and back to the guest room.
He fell into a restless sleep, exhausted.
Mostly due to Ducky's ministrations, they got the fever under control by 09:00.
Ducky and Gibbs sat at the kitchen table for tea and coffee, both tired and silent.
Finally, Ducky said, "I think Tony is going to need the services of Doctor Cranston, I think he's been far too traumatized to imagine this will just get better on its own."
Gibbs sighed. He nodded, knowing Ducky was right.
"He likes her well enough. She's helped him before. And no matter what, he has all of us. And that will be enough, Duck. It has to be."