Shot To Hell by ceilidh
A/N:- I know I sound like a broken record here, but thanks so much for the reviews, they've all been so encouraging!
Okay, so we know Tim's going to be alright, but it's going to be a rough recovery for him. And for me, at least, there could only be one person there with him when he wakes up. So, as always, I hope you enjoy!
Chapter Seven - To Hell And Back
He was getting restless again – something that Gibbs had expected, even without Dr Grey's advice.
God knew, he'd woken up in enough hospitals himself to recognize the subtle changes of movement, these telltale hitches of breathing. He knew how disorientating it was going to be, for Tim McGee to wake up in this strange, sterile room. And after the hellish trip he'd just unwillingly been on, it was going to be damn frightening for him too.
So yes, aside from that last part, Gibbs knew what his youngest agent was about to go through. He'd spent most of the night preparing for it.
His hearing, the last sense he'd lost to gently induced sleep, would be the first to return to him now. And the first thing he'd need to hear, as he finally woke from it, would be a voice he'd recognize – prompting Gibbs to call him now and take his hand, giving him two crucial points of contact, as Tim's eyes started to flicker open.
"McGee? Tim? It's okay, Tim, I'm here. Easy now, you're okay, you're gonna be alright-"
He'd said these words countless times, of course, as Tim had struggled to regain full awareness – smiling too when a slurred, sleepily delirious voice had paid him the greatest compliment he could ask for, but never openly share.
"D'ddy, 'm – 'm sick… don' wanna go school t'day…"
Dryly wondering what else those big green eyes had been able to wheedle through his childhood, Gibbs had gently tousled Tim's hair, and quietly humoured him as any father, real or otherwise, would soothingly do.
"Yeah, okay, Tim. School's out, just for today. It's okay, Timmy, daddy's here. Ssh, go back to sleep now, I'm here-"
Even at that tender age, though, Tim McGee had clearly been as stubborn then as he was now. He'd sleep when he was damn good and ready, however sick he was. And in spite of Gibbs' best efforts to soothe him to sleep, he'd been determined to stay awake.
Gibbs had sobered then - silently hating the blankness, the complete lack of recognition, in the eyes which had stared back at him. Those eyes, always so full of life and intelligence, had been frighteningly empty.
This time, though, to a relief which made him grin in pure gratitude, Gibbs could finally see it – a spark of familiar, puzzled curiosity which told him Tim McGee was back in the land of lucidity.
And the sleepy mumble that eventually followed, however faint, made that grin even wider.
"-b – b'ss?"
A pause then, and another deepening frown while Tim's eyes travelled slowly around him – followed, inevitably, by a groan of realization which made Gibbs break into outright laughter.
"H – Hosp-… aw, cr'p-"
"Couldn't have put it better myself, McGee," Gibbs chuckled, gently ruffling Tim's hair – his grin fading considerably, though, as alarm rather than appreciation flashed through Tim's eyes.
In a still feverish mind, or maybe from another childhood memory, waking up in hospital, plus Gibbs, plus ruffled hair, equalled serious trouble.
And his response, when it finally came, was a stark reminder of what he'd just been through.
"-b'ss? 'm – 'm I that sick?"
He wasn't so much now, of course, but twenty hours ago? Hell, yes, he'd been sick then.
And Gibbs could tell, by the sharp hitch in his breathing, that Tim was starting to remember it too – his hand already reaching for a nearby oxygen mask as that panic threatened to overwhelm him
"Easy, Tim. Easy now, it's alright. Just breathe, Tim, slow and easy… that's it, Tim, just breathe…"
It took several seconds, and a liberal hit of oxygen, but to Gibbs' relief, Tim finally began to settle. In fact, that oxygen hadn't just cleared his head, it had brought some much-needed strength back too.
He was smiling now, even managing a flash of rueful humour, as he rested back into his pillows.
"I'd – I'd say the 's' word, boss, but- well, I'm in enough trouble already-"
Even as he smiled back, enjoying this familiar joke between them, Gibbs felt a puzzled frown behind it.
He could understand DiNozzo's guilt trip, and Abby's, but for Tim McGee to start on one too now?
Aside from giving his boss a few more grey hairs, he'd done nothing to say the 's' word about, and – well no, Gibbs corrected himself, dryly answering his own rhetorical question, that wasn't entirely true.
Against his brilliance with computers, Tim McGee's skills as a scientist tended to get overlooked. From that, he would have recognized the signs of anaphylaxis, and known he needed urgent help. If he'd let Ducky check him over when he first felt ill, its traumatic aftermath could have been avoided
So yes, Tim McGee had to take some responsibility for the collapse which could have killed him.
For the sake of his own healing, though, Gibbs knew Tim had to face that admission himself.
Tim knew it, too. His smile had faded a little - and when he finally spoke, his voice was tellingly quiet.
"I – I knew something was wrong, boss. I – I knew I was sick, and – and I went to see Ducky, but- well, Ab- Abby was there, and she was still real mad at me, for – for shooting Jethro, and… well, I-"
"-went back to the bullpen instead," Gibbs finished for him, watching Tim's face for his reaction – knowing, from the strain he found there, that Tim McGee wasn't strong enough to face that memory yet
As Gibbs had resignedly expected, the smiling humour he'd seen, just moments before, had vanished – the quietness in Tim's voice, the sudden blankness in his eyes, merely hinting at the bitter pain beyond.
"I'm – I'm real tired, boss. I'd like to sleep now."
Realizing all hope he'd had to repair two broken friendships was gone now, Gibbs sighed and nodded – hoping a bright smile covered his concern, and his disappointment, as he gently patted Tim's shoulder.
"Yeah, Tim, I can see that. Okay, you get some rest now. I'll be back later, okay?"
Encouraged, if just partly, by a still subdued nod of agreement, Gibbs then rose from his chair – watching over him, waiting until Tim had fully settled again, before releasing a sigh of rueful frustration
Through harsh words, misjudgment, and crass stupidity, three of his kids were at emotional loggerheads.
It was going to take every one of a father's skills to repair the damage. And if he couldn't do it alone - well, then he'd just have to call in the family cavalry.