Silent Misery R&R

Chapter 22

McGee and David waited tensely in the hall for several minutes after Fornell firmly shut the door in their faces. They were all coiled action and suspended adrenalin. Neither of them had been happy at being excluded, but as the minutes ticked by, they each understood that no call for EMS meant no one had been hurt by the shot. They each independently considered and then immediately rejected the possibility that either DiNozzo or Gibbs had been killed, and Fornell was working a crime scene behind the closed door.

When the door opened five minutes after the shot and DiNozzo stuck his head out only enough to say they were "code four" – no further assistance required – McGee barely had time to open his mouth before his partner firmly closed the door again. Though it reassured both of the agents in the hall that the situation wasn't grave, it didn't ease their concern. Who had fired a gun? And why?

Then, Metro PD showed up. The agents tried to put them off, but the patrol officers weren't going to let it go. McGee ushered them in and waited in the doorway until Fornell kicked him out. He'd thought about staying anyway. Something told him he was already in enough trouble with Gibbs; he didn't want an argument with Fornell in front of the locals added to the list today.

After Metro left, McGee paced a little. David stood near the door, not listening at it as she had been when Tony was alone, but close by nonetheless. On the one hand, she was also upset at what McGee had said. On the other, she understood the sentiment. It had been very difficult to realize what had happened to Gibbs. It had briefly crossed her mind to wonder why Tony hadn't been able to stop it. But it was only briefly: Tony's injuries told the tale.

Still, the way McGee looked up to Gibbs – some might say worshiped him – it didn't surprise her that he reacted the way he did. She only hoped Gibbs understood it, too. Judging by how upset he had been when he arrived, Gibbs wasn't likely to let it go.

The door opened and Fornell finally gestured them inside. Ziva went first with McGee right behind. Tony was sitting on the couch with the pillow against his chest again. He was staring at the shelves of DVDs across the room and didn't acknowledge their arrival. Gibbs was standing behind the couch arm, almost hovering over Tony. Fornell took a position in the background, present but apart.

"Ziva, you're going to stay here for a couple days. You need to go home first?" Gibbs said. He didn't look at McGee.

"Yes," Ziva said. "It will not take long."

"Go." With a quick glance at McGee and a nod to Gibbs, Ziva left. When the door closed behind her, the focus turned to McGee.

"Tony, I'm sorry," McGee said immediately, then cringed a little. "I mean… I screwed up. I didn't mean to say…" He swallowed. "I know it wasn't your fault. I know if you could have stopped it you would have. I acted like an ass. I shouldn't have said what I said. I don't know what I was thinking."

DiNozzo didn't respond.

"I know you better than that," McGee added when it became clear DiNozzo wasn't going to answer. "I know you did everything you could. Realizing what happened, to you, to Gibbs, why you were hurt so bad, it messed with my head. But I'm over it. And I am sorry."

Still nothing from DiNozzo. McGee's brow creased and he chanced a glance at Gibbs. His face was expressionless.

"How can I fix it?" McGee asked with a slight desperation to his voice.

At that, Tony looked up. "Find them, McGee. You find them, and I'll forget all about it. Okay?"

"Okay. I will," McGee said with conviction. "I will," he repeated.

"Do it now, McGee," Gibbs said. McGee nodded firmly.

"I'm going to the office. Call me if you need me," McGee said and turned away. The three men watched as he strode purposefully across the apartment, the door closing firmly behind him.

Gibbs came around in front of DiNozzo. "Ziva will be back soon. Stay inside 'til she gets here. Call me tonight," Gibbs said to DiNozzo. "Brian called while you were in the shower. He'd like a call back."

DiNozzo nodded. He started to speak, paused to bite his lip, then continued. "You think he'll actually find them?"

"Yes," Gibbs said, and there was no trace of doubt in his voice.

"Good," DiNozzo said.

With nothing further to be said, Gibbs gestured to Fornell and they left.

NCIS-NCIS-NCIS

The return to Fornell's car was made in silence. Gibbs climbed carefully into the passenger seat, still favoring his injuries. As Fornell bent to get into his own seat, his open coat swung away and smacked the side of the sedan with a thud. Gibbs' sidearm. Fornell retrieved it and slid the clip back in, preparing to return it to Gibbs, then reconsidered. He popped the trunk and secured the weapon there instead.

A glance at Gibbs when Fornell was finally seated showed the other man sitting with his head back, eyes closed. He looked tense. Fornell knew Gibbs was just starting to process what had happened upstairs. He also knew Gibbs would do the processing in his usual manner. Which was to say, inside his own head. With a silent sigh, Fornell started the car and pulled away.

A few miles later, Gibbs leaned forward against his seatbelt and put his hands on the dash, his head hanging. Fornell gave a quick glance his way. He could see Gibbs taking slow, even breaths through pursed lips. The bandage on his right wrist had slipped during the fight with DiNozzo, revealing a line of angry red. They would have to fix that when they got home.

At the next stop sign, Fornell turned to look at Gibbs fully. "You okay?" he asked. Gibbs nodded without comment. Fornell moved on. Though they had virtually flown across the city to DiNozzo's place, Fornell was taking it much easier on the way back. He kept to surface streets, drifting through mostly residential neighborhoods in an effort to keep one eye on the road, one eye on Gibbs, and still not hit anything.

Over the next two or three miles, Gibbs' breathing rate increased, his exhalations becoming more harsh. A mile after that, Gibbs pulled his fingers into fists and leaned hard on the heels of his hands. He started to tremble.

"Jethro?" Fornell said.

"Pull over," Gibbs said suddenly. Fornell immediately jerked the car to the curb. Gibbs fumbled with his seatbelt and Fornell pushed the release, allowing Gibbs to shove the door open and roll out. Fornell slammed the car into park and threw off his own seatbelt, jumping out of the car and rounding the front. Gibbs was on his hands and knees on the grass, throwing up the toast and coffee he'd consumed that morning. Fornell stood over him, helpless to do anything but watch and wait and murmur non-words of consolation. Gibbs kept heaving and heaving, over and over. Every time Fornell thought he was done, Gibbs would throw up again. For several agonizing minutes after his stomach was empty, the spasms continued, broken only briefly while Gibbs gasped for air. When the storm finally slowed and then passed, Gibbs pushed himself over to sit on the curb, his head down and elbows on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

Pretty certain it was over for now, Fornell patted Gibbs' shoulder and went to the trunk of his car. He grabbed a bottle of water and a clean t-shirt and brought them back. He handed Gibbs the shirt first and the Navy man used it to wipe his mouth. The bottle followed and Gibbs rinsed his mouth, spitting into the gutter. Fornell lowered himself to the curb next to Gibbs, their hips touching.

"Did you take Reglan this morning?" Fornell asked. Gibbs nodded. He rinsed his mouth again.

"Maybe we should call Ducky, see about upping the dose," Fornell suggested.

Gibbs shook his head.

"Are you gentlemen alright?" a creaky voice startled them both. Fornell jerked his head around. An elderly man in a plaid flannel shirt was standing on the sidewalk between the grass strip and a neatly manicured lawn. Behind him, an equally elderly woman with her hair in curlers stood on the porch of the house they'd stopped in front of, holding the porch rail and looking nervous.

"We're fine," Fornell said, standing up. "He's got a real nasty flu." The lie rolled off easily.

The man took a step back. "I've heard it's really bad this year. Is there anything we can do to help?" he asked.

"No," Fornell said. "Thank you. We'll only be a minute." He glanced at the mess Gibbs had left on the grass. "Sorry about that."

"It's alright," the man said kindly. "I'll get the hose. It'll wash. Have you been to the doctor? I hear there's a medicine you can get now that helps if you take it quick enough."

"I'm taking him there soon as I can," Fornell said.

"Well good then. I hope you're feeling better soon."

"Thank you," Gibbs said, his voice raspy.

The man smiled and retreated toward the house. Gibbs rinsed his mouth one more time and held the bottle up to Fornell, who put the cap back on before tossing it into the car through the open passenger door. He took the t-shirt and threw it onto the floorboard before offering Gibbs a hand up. Gibbs stood shakily and grabbed at the door. He slid clumsily into the seat and Fornell carefully closed him inside.

The rest of the ride home was uneventful. Fornell took it as easy as he could. Beside him, Gibbs sat back with his eyes closed, breathing through his nose. He was still trembling slightly, though Fornell would bet his next paycheck Gibbs didn't realize it.

At the house, Gibbs was slow to move once the car was parked. The trembling had increased. He looked like a man with a chill. Fornell knew it wasn't anything as simple as that. He came around the car and opened the door, offering Gibbs a hand out. Gibbs accepted and leaned into Fornell for a minute. Fornell ignored the very real possibility that Gibbs' neighbors were watching and held him close. The fact that Gibbs also ignored that possibility showed how much he needed it. When Gibbs nodded he was ready, they walked toward the house together, Gibbs still leaning hard on Fornell.

Inside, they turned toward the living room. Gibbs paused long enough to slip off his coat and toss it onto the easy chair before dropping onto the couch. He hung his head and tried to breathe evenly. Fornell picked up Gibbs' coat and hung it up, along with his own.

The G-man drew two glasses of ice water in the kitchen and carried them back to the living room. He held one out to Gibbs, who took it with shaking hands. He sipped at it briefly before moving to set it on the end table. A little sloshed out to puddle on the hardwood floor. Gibbs interlaced his fingers and squeezed hard. Fornell sat in the easy chair, drinking deeply from his own glass before setting it beside Gibbs'.

Nothing was said for several minutes. Gibbs sat with his head down and his elbows on his knees. Fornell watched him, waiting.

"I nearly killed him," Gibbs said suddenly as a hard shiver overtook him. He didn't look up. Fornell didn't have to ask to whom Gibbs was referring.

" 'Nearly' is a big word for a sniper," Fornell said. "Last time I checked, you don't shoot until you know what you're aiming at, and when you pull the trigger you don't miss."

Gibbs shook his head. "I was trying to shoot him. Only luck he's not dead."

Now it was Fornell's turn to disagree. "Hardly luck. You haven't been exactly focused the last few days. No reason to think your marksmanship isn't suffering as well."

"So DiNozzo should thank that bastard for screwing up my aim?" Gibbs asked and looked over at him.

"Jethro…" Fornell said with reproach.

Gibbs sighed, squeezed his fingers again, then pushed to his feet. "I'm gonna lay down. You can go home if you want to."

"Okay," Fornell said. "We should rewrap that wrist."

Gibbs looked down at the twisted bandage. "I'll do it," he said.

"You want a hand?"

"No," Gibbs said and started toward the stairs.

Fornell watched him go. "Okay," he said again. He made no move to leave.

to be continued