The knocking on the door took a while to pound its way into his consciousness, but when it did, Gibbs shot to his feet, his right hand taking a heavy blow against the nightstand in his disoriented scramble.
He fumbled for the watch on his wrist, sleep-impeded fingers too clumsy to easily find the small button.
Two in the morning.
Maybe Tony ...
Gibbs squelched that thought down. Perhaps in the moment, the younger man had mistaken simple affection for something more, but Gibbs knew that was all it was.
Whoever was at his door at this hour of the morning, it wasn't DiNozzo.
"Coming," he shouted at the continual rapping as he lurched down the hall, still disoriented, the walls seeming misplaced, the front door steps further than it should have been.
"What—" he started to demand, clumsily jamming the door into his toes when he didn't step back carefully enough.
"It's me, Jethro."
Gibbs let the door swing all the way open. "Ducky? What's wrong?"
"There's been an accident." A gentle hand grasped his elbow, ready to support him. "It's Anthony. There was a driver, drunk, driving the wrong way on I-95. He crossed the median. A semi swerved to avoid him; apparently Tony was in the next lane."
Ducky tightened his hold as Gibbs' footing threatened to fail. "Is he dead, Duck?"
"No," reassured the physician. "He's in the ICU at Mass General. We got the call around seven. I thought you'd want to--"
"Yeah, uh ..." Gibbs ran a hand through his mussed hair. "I'll get dressed."
"You're bleeding," observed the physician, taking the fisted right hand into his.
"I hit--" Ducky steadied him as Gibbs tried to turn back toward the bedroom. "The knocking startled me ... the nightstand --"
"All right," said Ducky softly. "You're going to sit down, Jethro. You're showing some signs of shock."
"No," Gibbs pulled out of his hold. "We should—"
"We'll go when I make sure you're all right." He frowned at the slowness of Gibbs' responses and the slight tremors shaking the leaning body. "I have my Hippocratic Oath to think about."
Carefully, he walked the dazed man to the nearest chair, settling to take the injured fist back into his hands. He gently examined the battered flesh, frowning. "Jethro, this didn't all just happen because you ran into the nightstand." He reached over and turned Gibbs' left hand over as well, a sharp intake of breath telling Gibbs he'd seen the bruises. "Did you get into a fight? Are you hurt?"
"I ..." Gibbs flexed his sore fingers, "I hit Tony."
"What?" murmured the physician, his fingers gingerly examining each swollen joint. "Why would you hit Anthony?"
"I don't know." Gibbs closed his eyes. "It just happened."
"Are you hurt?" repeated Ducky, his hands moving to run along Gibbs' ribs.
"No, he wouldn't ... he didn't fight back."
"Sit still," instructed the ME, his quick exam finding nothing more than contusions. "Let me find something to wrap your hand."
"God, Duck, if something's happened to him ..."
Gibbs heard the ME's footsteps halt. "Did he leave angry?"
"No." Gibbs shook his head. "He ... he wanted me to come with him."
"It'll be all right, Jethro. Let me fix you up and then we'll go. Everything's going to be fine."
But Ducky sounded tired and Gibbs had been placated with too many empty platitudes in the last year. He buried his face in his hand.
It was a long, silent ride to Boston, broken only by the occasional ringing of Ducky's cell phone, the almost terse tone in the Englishman's voice as he answered half a dozen calls.
"Abby and Kate are inside," Ducky warned as he helped Gibbs from the car.
In response he only got an abrupt nod of Gibbs' head. He offered his arm, gave a small pat to the hand that settled there. "It really will be all right, Jethro."
"When I see him, Duck," Gibbs muttered tensely. "Then it will be all right,"
"Come on then. We'll get you in there."
"Oh, God," said Kate softly.
Abby looked up from where she sat chewing the quick of her nails. "Bossman."
She stood up, made a move toward the pair approaching them, then quickly aborted it at the shake of Ducky's head.
They watched Ducky palm the button to open the ICU doors, Gibbs straight-backed and tense beside him. With a deep sigh, Abby sank onto the uncomfortable seating and popped a nail back in her mouth.
The medicinal scent was all too familiar. Gibbs tightened his hold on Ducky's elbow and tried to steady his breathing. Too distracted to follow the cues of the older man's body, he stumbled when Ducky slowed, causing the ME to steady him before he addressed the nurse at the station. Gibbs stood, feeling impotent, as medicalese was exchanged, Ducky using his considerable charm to get an unofficial update. DiNozzo was stable. Respiration still being assisted. Broken bones reset. Pupils equal and reactive. Blood pressure a little low. A watch being kept for additional internal bleeding.
Finally, overcome with impatience, Gibbs broke in quietly. "Can I see him, Duck?"
"May we?" inquired Ducky and the nurse gestured them toward one of the glassed-in cubicles, issuing the standard instructions.
But Gibbs was past hearing. In fact there seemed to be a general numbness in all his senses, as if, the longer he stood there, the further he seemed to be removed from even his own body. He needed to be near Tony, to touch him. To reassure himself they weren't just keeping some horrible truth from him, doling it out bit by bit because they knew, somehow, that Tony had undone in one night all the defenses he'd managed to erect in the past year.
"Jethro?" Ducky's voice was pitched low, concern radiating in his tone. His hand again clasped Gibbs' as it lightly rested against its elbow.
"I'm okay, Duck. I just need to ..." Gibbs' voice trailed off.
"This way," said Ducky, slowly starting forward. "It's just to our right."
A door slid. Gibbs could hear the whisper of the gliders on the metallic track.
"Here," Ducky placed Gibbs' hand on the cool metal of the side rail. "The whoosh you hear is the respirator. Let me ..." There was the muted sound of fabric being rearranged before Ducky's hand tapped at Gibbs' and he let Ducky unwrap his fingers from the bar. "Here, take his hand."
Gibbs clasped the limp, cool fingers in his own. The hand that had just hours before been had pressed him against the younger man's strength and warmth.
"Ducky?" Gibbs finally whispered. "He going to be okay?"
"If there are no complications within the next few hours," conceded Ducky, "he should be just fine."
Gibbs squeezed the hand in his tighter, then with the utmost care, he skimmed the length of the still arm, his fingers dancing gingerly around the taped IV site to reach the hard curve of Tony's collarbone. His hand remained there, fingers resting against the smooth bare skin above the hospital gown until Ducky's fingers closed around them again, drawing them up to stroke along Tony's hairline.
"Talk to him, Jethro," Ducky urged softly. "I am a firm believer that the unconscious are aware at some level."
Gibbs nodded, but it took a moment for him find his voice. "Hey, DiNozzo."
His fingers rhythmically caressed the soft, short hair. "If you wanted to see me this soon, you could have just turned around. The door is always open. You know that." The skin of Tony's forehead was cool. The whoosh of the respirator a mechanical counterpoint to Gibbs' own shaky breaths. "Give me some time, Tony. That's all I ask. Just give me some time."
Ducky steadied Gibbs as he nearly faltered. "Perhaps you should sit down, Jethro."
Kate and Abby met him halfway, their eyes fixed on the door of the ICU automatically closing behind him.
"How is he?"
"Anthony or Jethro?" Ducky returned, tired eyes now meeting Kate's.
"Let's start with Tony," instructed the agent, reminding him all too much of Gibbs in search of testimony.
"Stabilized. Still on the respirator. Blood pressure still a little," he hesitated, "a little low."
Kate continued her query. "Gibbs?"
"Shocked, as were we all."
"You?"
Ducky smiled wanly. "I am fine."
Abby, still quiet, reached and took the ME's hand.
Kate frowned in the direction of the doors. "They let him stay?"
"I shouldn't leave him alone," admitted the ME. "I just wanted to give you an update. We'll be out soon enough." Ducky squeezed Abby's hand. "They both need their rest. So do you."
"We'll be here," responded Abby.
Kate just nodded her agreement.
"I'm not leaving!"
Abby smiled, the stubbornness in Gibbs' voice reassuring her. It was ... comforting, Gibbs' yelling. Normal. The way nothing had been normal in a long, long time.
"He needs rest, Jethro. So do we all, it's nearly dawn."
As they came around the corner, Gibbs' pulled out of Ducky's grasp. "You want to go? You go. I'm staying here."
"I thought some coffee—"
"They have coffee in the waiting room."
"You'll call it 'sludge,'" observed the physician.
"Quite probably." Gibbs swayed a little, unanchored now in his darkness.
"All right. I'll take you to the waiting room," Ducky conceded, his other hand motioning the rest of the NCIS staff from where they'd camped on the only available bench outside the packed waiting area. "Kate and Abby—"
Gibbs turned in the direction of the soft footfalls, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Kate," he greeted when the footsteps halted. "Abby."
"Gibbs," returned Kate, studying the defeated posture, not sure how to treat this unfamiliar, unsure man.
Abby, however, had no such problems. She flew into Gibbs' arms, almost knocking him backwards, Ducky's hand swiftly preventing the fall.
Gibbs folded his arms around the lab tech's shaking form, his good hand gripping a tense shoulder. Abby's eyes blinked wetly against his neck as she burrowed against him.
"Bossman," she finally sniffled.
"It's okay, Abs. He's going to be fine."
"Starbucks?" Gibbs held out his hand.
"Am I to take it you can recognize coffee brands by scent?" inquired Ducky, wrapping the scarred fingers around the cup.
"Always could do that, Duck," admitted Gibbs, quietly. They'd managed to snag a corner of the busy ICU waiting area and Gibbs had been listening to Kate and Abby's deep breaths, both women sleeping despite the bustle in and out, the conversations which Gibbs was trying to block out. "What time is it?"
"Almost seven. We can go back in an hour."
"You could go back now," prodded Gibbs, sipping at the contents of the cup.
"He's doing fine." Ducky patted Gibbs' knee. "You should try to get some sleep."
"Same sleep you've been getting?" responded Gibbs.
"I'm fine," protested the ME.
"You should be sacked out with those two. "Gibbs inclined his head in the direction of the resting pair.
Ducky reached out and ran a finger along the swollen knuckles of the fist lying in Gibbs' lap. "The swelling's increased. It may be that we should have that x-rayed." He lifted the frozen hand gently. "Any pain?"
"Like I'd know?" Gibbs returned.
"I'm at a loss to imagine how you and Anthony wound up practicing the sweet science."
Gibbs shrugged. "My fault. I ... I don't like to be surprised."
"Surprised?" echoed the physician.
"He touched me. I ..." Gibbs took another swallow of now-cooling coffee. "I took a swing at him."
"A swing didn't do this, Jethro."
"Several," Gibbs corrected, "several swings. He wouldn't fight back, which just made me madder."
"I see," said Ducky, although from the tone of voice Gibbs was sure the ME didn't.
Kate startled awake and stared, disoriented, at the unfamiliar blanket covering her. Her bladder almost immediately signaled its displeasure at her ill-timed nap by a dull pain that was joined by the ache in her stiffened muscles.
"Kate?"
"Mmm?" she groaned, massaging her tensed neck. "Gibbs?" she realized a second later, blinking fully awake. She looked around. "Where's Abby?"
"Ducky took her in."
Gibbs' head was turned so that his ear was toward the double doors of the waiting room. Kate studied his profile, the dark glasses hiding his eyes, but not hiding the scars that marred his cheek and neck.
She was used to the multitude of scars that Tony carried on his hands, the curving slash on his cheek. Tony's reticence about the imperfection had taken her by surprise. She'd thought Tony too vain to let himself remain scarred. Then, she'd decided that, maybe, it was guilt. But now she found herself wondering whether it was, instead, that he found it minor compared to the damage inflicted on Gibbs. Unworthy of notice.
"Tony?" she asked softly.
"Don't know. I let Abby go." Gibbs stiffened slightly as someone entered the waiting room, then relaxed back against the curve of the seat as the steps headed in the opposite direction. "Ducky will be back out in a minute."
"I've got to—"Kate pointed toward the restroom, then grimaced. "Ladies room," she explained. "I'll be right back."
What greeted her on her return was a disheartened-looking Abby, an inpatient Gibbs and obviously exhausted physician who was the one to explain, "We thought you might want to go back."
Kate looked at Ducky with a slightly panicked expression that Gibbs' seemed to know about. He raised his head and seemed to appraise her. Ducky held out his hand silently, latching hers, when she extended it, onto his own elbow. "Let him hold you this way."
"Okay."
"Here, Jethro," Ducky held out his hand again, positioning Gibbs. "It's the first room on the right after you go through the doors."
Kate glanced up at the clock showing 8:13. "Are you sure there's time?"
"It'll be fine," said Ducky. "They've been lenient." He inclined his head in Gibbs' direction, his blue eyes somberly expressing what he didn't dare say in front of Gibbs – that exceptions were being made for reasons that had more to do with his scars than the force of his personality.
"Time's a-wasting, Kate." Gibbs gave a little tug to her elbow.
"Yeah. Sure." She took a step. "Do I—"
"Just walk, Kate," ordered Gibbs.
So she did.
The nurse at the station bustled out to intercept them, her tone almost sugary, "Mr. Gibbs, Dr. Mallard wanted me to give you an update." Kate found herself narrowing her eyes at the lilting pitch. "I'm afraid Mr. DiNozzo is still unconscious, but that's to be expected."
Following the nurse's short, crisp steps, Kate peered toward the bed in the glassed-in cubicle and realized where the look on Abby's face came from – in the monotonous gray of the ICU suite, Tony was almost as monochrome: skin still faintly ashen, bruise-blue shadows under his closed eyes, pristine white tape holding the mouthpiece of the respirator in place, faint smearings of orange betadine solution outlining the small cuts butterflied together on his temple.
She could feel Gibbs' nodding at the continuing recitation of the nurse, each movement producing a small jerk of his grip. But the actual words no longer registered.
"Kate?" Gibbs' head was tilted away from her again, the 'listening' pose from the waiting room. From the look on the nurse's face, the query must have been on its second or third repetition.
"Yeah?" she said, her voice unconsciously hushed and seeming insignificant against the beeps of the rolling equipment.
"You okay?" asked Gibbs
"I'm fine." Kate frowned at the nurse who, at least, retreated at the expression.
"I need to see him."
Kate swallowed hard, afraid she was going to have to describe the cloth-draped wound on Tony's torso, the external fixator that encased his right leg. "See?"
"I 'see' with my hands, Kate." Gibbs tucked his contorted right hand closer against him. "Hand," he amended. "I just need to know where it's safe to touch him."
"Sure. I, uh—"Kate took Gibbs' hand into her own, bringing it momentarily to the railing before clasping their twined hands around Tony's lax one, "—the IV is..."
"A pic line at the collarbone," supplied Gibbs, fumbling momentarily before positioning his fingers to wrap around Tony's. His thumb massaged the cool skin at the knuckles. "Ducky thinks he might hear us. If there's something you'd like to say."
"The last thing I said to him was 'you're on report.'"
Gibbs smiled wanly. "I don't think he took you seriously."
"Well, the last thing he said to me was that he quit."
"And you didn't take him seriously, either."
His hand shifted to more fully take Tony's palm into his.
"How did you ..." Kate reached over to smooth nearly invisible wrinkles from the neatly tucked sheets, "make him behave?"
"I let him do what he needed to," Gibbs paused, a fond smile briefly lighting his face, "most of the time."
"What about when what he wants to do is—"
"Dangerous?" finished Gibbs for her. "Breaks the rules?"
"Yeah."
"You weigh the possibilities. And you trust him."
