Walking Eagle
"Jethro, how many times do I have to tell you, a hard head does NOT necessarily mean bullet proof," Ducky said lightly, as he entered the room.
"Ducky," Gibbs said, almost relieved. "How are they really?"
Ducky smiled, though he knew that Jethro did not, for the moment at least have the benefit of seeing his body language.
"Worried sick, Jethro. We spent most of the evening at Abigail and Timothy's house. Waiting for news." Gibbs grew silent, as the realization of just how devoted his team was to him began to sink in.
"Kate and Tim, they're okay then? They weren't hurt?" Gibbs pressed the older man.
"They're fine, Jethro. Not a scratch. But I cannot say the same for the man who shot you. I'm afraid that Caitlin and Timothy took a special pleasure in taking that bastard out." Gibbs smiled. "That's my team," he said softly, almost inaudibly.
"So tell me the truth, Ducky. Will I see again?" Gibbs tried to sound matter-of-fact, but his old friend knew better. He was scared to death.
"In all likelihood, yes. I did see the scans myself. But I don't know how long your blindness will last, I'm afraid." Ducky looked towards the window, seeing the expectant faces of Abby and Tony.
"You have two young people eager to see you, Jethro," Ducky said suddenly. Gibbs turned his head towards the sounds by the doorway, as he heard two people enter the room.
"Abby, Tony?" he said. Abby giggled. "How did you know, Gibbs?" Abby asked, curiously.
"I recognize your perfume, Abs. And Tony, I recognize the sound of your footsteps. You're about as subtle as a bull in a china shop." Ducky smiled at the two new comers, and exited the room.
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Kate stood between Palmer and Tim, watching through the window. Tim stood with a brotherly hand resting on her shoulder, and Palmer was surprised when Kate in turn rested a hand softly on his back, nestling it between his shoulder blades. A tear slid silently down her cheek, and she smiled, as she watched Tony gently tap the back of Gibbs' head. Oh, how she wished she could read lips right now.
"How is he, Ducky?" Tim asked, in a give-it-to-me-straight tone.
"I think he's full of it, Timothy. He's trying to appear brave, but he's scared to death."
"Walking Eagle?" Palmer said, suddenly. Tim and Kate looked at him. Palmer blushed. "So full of crap, he can't fly," he timidly elaborated. Ducky smiled, and Tim snorted in spite of himself, then looked over at Palmer, grinning at the younger man approvingly. Kate shook her head, and giggled softly, grateful for the timely break in the gloomy mood, and gave Palmer's back a gentle rub. Palmer sighed, relieved that he hadn't put his foot in it. Then, like his companions, he returned his attention to the people on the other side of the observation window.