A/N: Ok I know it's been ages since I updated this. The last few weeks have been absolutely crazy. I've almost finished this story (yay!) and I have the first couple of chapters of a new one written- but I'm not posting it til this is done.
Anyway, enjoy! F.
Ducky made his way down the familiar halls of Bethesda Naval Hospital. Since McGee was injured a little over a month ago, he'd developed the habit of visiting him after work had finished for the night. He didn't make it here every day; not like Abby, who, as far as he was aware, had not missed a single night since McGee was admitted. But he made the trip as often as he could. His frequent trips were partly due to a concern over McGee's mental health. The severity of McGee's nightmares had worried the elderly medical examiner, and his behaviour since the memorial service had only increased that worry.
At first he'd thought that McGee's unusual quietness had stemmed from grief; he'd worked closely with Thompson in his months with the Cybercrime unit. On top of that, McGee could be quite a sensitive person, and it would be like him to grieve for the people killed as a result of Adams' obsession. But it soon became apparent that that wasn't the case. Tim was quiet, withdrawn and a little depressed; but it wasn't grief. Ducky had seen McGee grieve, both when Kate had been murdered, and later with the loss of his close friend Jim Nelson. This was something else. Something was bothering the young agent, and no one seemed to be able to figure out what it was.
Ducky was grateful that McGee was alone when he entered his room. McGee was curiously afraid of showing anything that could be construed as weakness, more so than the rest of Gibbs' team, and particularly when any of the rest of the team was around. Ducky hoped that the younger man would be more likely to open up and talk about what was bothering him when no one else was around. He admitted it was a long shot; even Abby, with her constant presence by McGee's bed, hadn't managed to get him to talk. Not for the first time, Ducky wondered what drove Abby to spend so much time at the hospital. Was it just her rather fierce protective instincts that surfaced when one of her friends was injured? Or was it something else?
He settled into the chair next to McGee's bed and started filling him in on the latest developments on the Adams' case. Tony and Ziva were having trouble tracing where Adams had gotten the explosives he used in the bomb he'd planted in the Navy Yard; there was a chance that the explosives had come from an international weapons ring. As he spoke, he watched McGee closely, gauging his reactions. He replied in monosyllables, clearly preoccupied by his own thoughts. Seeing that McGee wasn't going to add anything, Ducky changed the subject to McGee's recovery, and was rewarded by seeing the flash of self doubt that the younger man tried to hide. When he got up to leave, McGee stopped him at the door.
"Ducky, do you think I won't make it back to the team?"
The question was casual, almost offhand, but as Ducky turned to face McGee, he could see that his eyes were troubled; there was no trace of the determination he'd seen there when they were talking after the memorial services. He could only think of one thing that could have changed that.
"Who said that?"
McGee shifted his gaze, confirming Ducky's suspicions.
"Timothy, who told you that you won't make it back?"
McGee sighed. "Palmer. He didn't say it" he hastened to explain. "He just... looked it."
Ducky walked back over to his bedside. "Timothy, how many times a week do you have physiotherapy?" He saw the puzzlement on the young agent's face as he responded. "Three times a week." Ducky nodded. "And how many times did you have physiotherapy at first?"
"Every day."
"Dear boy, do you think they would have decreased your physiotherapy if you weren't making progress?"
He watched as McGee put the pieces together in his mind and nodded again. "You're further along than most people after an injury this severe, Timothy. So do stop worrying."
He was relieved to see some of the tension leave McGee's frame as he stood and went back to the doorway. McGee's fervent "Thanks, Ducky" brought a smile to his face as he left.
