THURSDAY

Thursday morning dawned far too early for Tony. It was his own fault. No one had forced him to stay up until 3:30 a.m. playing "Azurik: Rise of Perathia." Still, when you have a new toy and you don't have to be at work in the morning, you want to play. He was paying for that now.

It was just after 10 o'clock, and Tony's phone was ringing. He toyed with the idea of just letting it go to voicemail, but he knew it was probably either Gibbs or Ducky, checking up on him and making sure he was taking his meds and eating sensibly. If he didn't answer, either they or an ambulance would be over within 15 minutes, and he didn't think he could take that right now. Tony didn't plan on telling them about the Chinese food he'd ordered and eaten at 1 a.m. between bouts of "Halo 2" and "Crimson Skies: High Road to Revenge." He'd punished himself enough; he didn't need a lecture from them. He picked up the phone, trying to sound as awake and healthy as possible.

"Hey, Boss," Tony said, with a lightness in his voice that belied the fact that he was suffering from lack of sleep and a serious food hangover, not to mention still recovering from the plague.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs said. "How're you doing?" It occurred to Tony that Gibbs' tone of voice when he asked how Tony was doing had changed over the four days he'd been home. Back on Monday, it was all soft and caring and he was "Tony"; now it was Thursday, he was "DiNozzo" again, and it was all business.

"Um … good, Boss," Tony said. "You?"

"I'm not the one who's sick, DiNozzo," Gibbs replied. Tony could tell that his boss was busy – probably reading a computer screen and going through one of Kate's reports at the same time he was calling. Tony felt a little guilty for not being there to handle his part of the work load. "You taking your meds?" Gibbs continued.

"Yeah, Boss," Tony confirmed. He stifled a cough – his first of the day. "Just about to." There was silence on the other end. "I … um … just woke up," Tony said, feeling somehow like an errant kid who had overslept.

"Good," Gibbs said, obviously distracted by something. "Sleeping in is probably good for you right now."

'Yeah', thought Tony. 'Especially when you're coming off a 13-hour junk food and Xbox marathon'.

"Don't get used to it," Gibbs continued.

"Everything okay, Boss?" Tony asked, tentatively. "You sound a little pre-occupied."

"Nothing for you to worry about," Gibbs said. "Just get some rest …"

"Take my meds, and eat something healthy. I know," Tony finished the sentence. Gibbs chuckled.

"Tell everyone hello for …" Tony began.

"Will do," Gibbs said, briskly, as he hung up the phone. Tony sighed.

Tony wandered out into the living room and was slightly appalled at what he saw. An open pizza box with half a slice barely balanced on the edge was on the floor under the coffee table; six empty cans of Mountain Dew were stacked in a small pyramid on the side table; two Chinese food containers were just to the left of the pyramid, leaking some sort of liquid onto the table; a half-eaten piece of celery had dripped the last of its bleu cheese dressing on the carpet. An afghan and two pillows were tossed haphazardly on the floor amidst some pizza crust bits; Xbox cases and the cellophane that had encased them were littered everywhere; a pair of socks was crumpled in a ball near the TV. The only thing that seemed in perfect order was the entertainment center, which was nicely organized with all the various game components – neat and tidy. Tony had to admit it … he was an Xbox addict. "Hi, Tony", he heard the others in the Xbox Anonymous meeting saying back to him.

He headed to the kitchen to make some coffee and grab something for breakfast that was less harmful to his system than half a slice of cold pizza or left-over chow mein. He coughed a bit as he finished waking up, but didn't really have much to complain about in the "recovering from the plague" department. Tony had been relatively cough-free the day before, and his coughs now were like remnants of the coughs he'd had on Tuesday. Like little left-over bits of plague that were trying to take hold again, but losing their grip before they could do any damage. He had a small bowl of oatmeal and some fruit, took his meds, and felt a little better. Then he grabbed a trash bag, and quickly cleaned and straightened the living room before hopping in the shower.

By noon, the apartment was looking like its normal self, and Tony had hidden the Xbox in a back corner of the entertainment center so as not to lead himself into temptation. He was showered, dressed, and feeling pretty healthy, all things considered. He was mentally going over his lunch options when there was a knock on the door.

Tony froze. The first time this had happened, he'd opened the door to his father; the second time, it was the delivery guy with the Xbox. Both visitations had left him exhausted. He walked into the kitchen and tentatively cracked the door open.

"Hi Tony!" came a chorus of high-pitched voices. Tony smiled in appreciation at the vision standing before him. Bobbi, from Personnel, was there, along with two of the evidence check-in techs – the ones that Tony (and, although he'd never admit it to anyone, McGee) referred to as "Baggie Bunnies."

"Well, hello ladies," Tony said, giving them a dazzling smile that made them smile even more brightly. His brow furrowed a bit. Were they actually dressed as nurses?

"We're here to make you all better!" Bobbi bubbled. Tony had just the very beginning of a hint of a thought of a headache starting in the back of his skull. But he ignored it and admired the women's' costumes.

"Then I guess you'd better come in, Nurse Bobbi," Tony said, stepping back to let them all into the apartment. He wasn't necessarily sure he wanted all of them in the apartment – they seemed just a little too eager – but he didn't want to hurt their feelings and he certainly didn't want to leave them standing on the doorstep.

"This is Trisha," Bobbi said, pointing to the redhead on her left, "and this is Ann," she said, giving a nod to the blonde on the right. Tony continued smiling. "We're here if you need anything." He smiled some more, not sure what to say. Bobbi's face fell.

"The nurse costumes are too much, aren't they?" she said, looking down at her party-store-grade nurse's miniskirt, white tights and white patent leather shoes. "I told Trisha they'd be over the top, but she insisted."

"No," Tony said, honestly. "They're great. You guys look like you're just what the doctor ordered." All three of them brightened instantly. There was another knock on the door.

"That's probably Greta and Jeri from the word processing pool," Ann said, cheerfully. "They found out we were coming to see you and insisted on joining us."

Tony opened the door to see two more women, dressed in scrubs with toy doctor's kits, on the landing.

"You must be Greta and Jeri from the word processing pool," Tony said, smoothly and with a drop-dead grin. They both smiled brightly at being recognized and joined the others inside.

"So, Tony," Bobbi said. "Is there anything you …" She stopped and gasped, pointing to the refrigerator, where all of Tony's get well cards were displayed. He'd put them all up with magnets, to remind himself that people cared enough to send the very best. "That's my card!" Bobbi exclaimed to the others. "You kept it!" she said, as she looked with wonder at Tony. It seemed to be lost on her that he had apparently kept all of his cards, and that hers was one of several dozen on the fridge.

"Of course I did," he said. "I really appreciate that you sent it." And that was sincere. He truly did appreciate anyone who took the time to send him a get well card. There was a moment of silence as everyone looked at the card.

Then Greta said, "Is there anything you need Tony? Your wish is our command." They all smiled.

"Well," Tony said, tentatively, "I was thinking about lunch. Anyone hungry?"

The next hour or so passed as Bobbi, Greta, Jeri, Trisha and Ann poked around Tony's kitchen and assembled a lunch buffet. It was a small kitchen for five women, but they all wanted to be involved somehow, so Tony just sat at the table and watched appreciatively. Every time Bobbi or Ann had to reach for something, their little white mini-skirts hiked up a bit and Tony could see shapely legs and little white tap shorts underneath. And Geri bending over to get things out of the crisper drawer of the fridge was ... well … let's just say that Tony would never quite look at the word processing pool the same way again. Before long, there were salads, sandwiches, crudités and fruit set out in a cold buffet on Tony's counter. They sat and ate, the girls doing most – no, all – of the talking, complaining about bosses, discussing new dress code policies, and continuing what was obviously an on-going discussion about Gerald's 'availability'. Tony smiled and shrugged when asked, partly because he had a mouthful of turkey sandwich, but mostly because … well … he didn't know.

After lunch, Trisha and Jeri stayed in the kitchen to clean up, while Bobbi, Greta and Ann led Tony into the living room. They made a big show of getting him settled on the couch, and then asked if there was anything else they could do. Tony suggested a movie, and they all agreed. Tony had an overwhelming urge to put in "Lolita," but decided his system couldn't handle it and settled on "Nurse Betty" instead. It seemed appropriate.

Over the next hour and a half, the bevy of nurses around him got bored with the film and slowly moved back into the kitchen to do whatever it is five women do when they're bored. Tony wasn't sure if he should be relieved or annoyed that they'd left him, apparently finding each other's company more interesting than his, but every time they erupted in laughter or said, "I know!" in unison, he was content to watch Dr. Kinnear try to deal with Nurse Zellweger. At one point, Tony considered trying to sneak into his room and curl up on his bed without anyone noticing. But he wasn't sure what message, exactly, that would send. So, he just sat quietly, trying to figure out how five perky nurses in his apartment suddenly became a bad thing.

"When the gods want to punish us, they answer our prayers," Tony thought with a sigh.

As Tony sat on his couch and watched the women – no, Kate, sorry … but these were girls, he decided; in fact, they were girls in the most girly-girl sense. As Tony sat on his couch and watched the girls chatter and giggle and trade whatever information they were trading, while occasionally sneaking glances at him, Tony felt like a chaperone at a slumber party or the handsome professor during study hall. The girls would look at him and then whisper and then giggle – a pattern that was repeated over and over and over again. At first, Tony played along.

"What are you all talking about?" Tony's sing-song voice asked as he snuck over to their little group, making believe he was stealthy and about to pounce. Squeals and giggles would follow, and the girls would nearly melt when he smiled at them.

"Oh, Tony," Bobbi said, "it's just 'girl talk' – nothing you'd be interested in." They all laughed and then, he swore, they batted their eyes.

"Oh, but I am interested," he said, with another grin that caused sighs. "I have a right … in fact, I have a need to know what you're talking about in my dining room." It was a fake scolding – a make-believe interrogation. And the girls adored it.

Then, suddenly, it became very important to him to discover what it was they were discussing. He was getting tired of the game. He sent a silent prayer up to Camillus of Lellis, the patron saint of both sick people and nurses, seeking some sort of divine intervention. All those years of memorizing the saints in Sunday school had to be good for something. Nothing came.

Tony decided that he had two choices. He could sit and make believe he was interested, while hovering in order to delight the girls, and then shoo them out before dinner time; or he could simply tell them to leave and permanently incur the wrath of every female secretary, assistant, and evidence processor in the building once it got around how mean and ungrateful he was. He was just about to resign himself to the first option when there was another knock on the door. The girls looked up expectantly. Tony hung his head, stood and thought, 'Who else could possibly be coming to join them?' It was, after all, a work day. How much support staff could NCIS spare at one time? He shuffled slowly to the door, took a deep breath, and pulled it open with the best smile he could muster.

Tony almost cried with happiness and relief when he saw Terri and Liz standing on the doorstep. He had allies. People on his side. Soldiers in his "getting people out of my apartment" war. He looked to the heavens and said a whispered 'thank you' to Saint Camillus.

Terri and Liz were both about Tony's age, and each of them had lived near him in previous apartment complexes – he'd known Liz the longest, but was good friends with both of them. The two women hadn't met each other until the year they'd both happened to invite Tony to Thanksgiving dinner and he decided it would be more fun for him to invite them both to his house than it would be to choose between them. It had been a great day – good food, good friends, good football, and a hysterical running commentary by Terri during the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. Since then, the two women had banded together as a kind of tag-team support system for Tony. They were like the sisters he never had, and he loved it. They kept him fed during stake-outs, made sure he had a place to go on holidays, and took care of him if he got shot or injured or just had a bad day. In return, Tony helped the two women through car problems and boyfriend troubles, was their sounding board for ideas and complaints, and acted as the occasional last-minute date if one of them was "between boyfriends" and needed someone to escort them to a party or gathering.

Tony realized that he hadn't talked to either Terri or Liz for at least six weeks, and he couldn't figure out how they'd even known he was sick. Terri let it slip that she'd done some checking up on him when she hadn't heard from him in a while – the benefit of working at the Pentagon, and Liz mentioned that she'd run into Dr. Pitt at one of the local hospitals where she was a lab tech and he had privileges.

Tony laughed. "Nice work," he said, as he ushered them into the growing party. "I can't believe it took you guys until Thursday to get here."

"Oh, we talked about it," Terri said. "We figured Gibbs and Ducky would be in control on the first day and then your family would make it here on Day 2. That gave you a day home alone before we showed up to save you from yourself."

'Wow', Tony thought. 'They're good.'

The next hour or so passed by in a blur. After receiving a clear indication from Tony that he'd really had enough of the slumber party going on in his dining room, Terri and Liz gathered the gang of five together and told them that they were probably just a bit too much for Tony's still-recuperating system. Liz tossed in some medical jargon and said that for Tony's own good, the women should probably cut this visit short and come back when he was a little stronger. They all "totally" understood. Bobbi promised Tony that they would all come back soon and reminded him that if he needed anything, all he had to do was "pick up the phone and buzz me," with a wink and a little extra emphasis on "buzz." Tony smiled and promised he would. Trisha, Jeri, Greta and Ann all repeated the sentiment, trying to out-wit each other by finding new and more suggestive words for "buzz". Tony smiled tolerantly at each one of them as they paraded past him and out the door. He kissed each one on the cheek, much to their delight. Ann was the only one sly enough to turn her head quickly at the last minute and receive a kiss on the lips. The other four girls gasped.

"Ann!" Trisha exclaimed in a frantic whisper. "He's got the PLAGUE!" The other girls put their hands up in front of their open mouths, and Ann looked at Tony with wide, startled eyes.

"It's okay, Ann," Tony said in his most comforting voice. "I'm not contagious." She furrowed her brow, trying to decide if he was telling the truth. "I promise," he said, soothingly. "Nothing to worry about. I wouldn't lie to you about something like that, would I?" He smiled. She melted. Then she ran down the stairs to join the other girls, where she was probably going on and on about how she had tricked Tony DiNozzo into kissing her.

Tony didn't really care. They were gone. He was free.

By the end of the day, Tony was, once again, totally relaxed. Liz monitored Tony's vital signs, cajoled him into taking his meds ("But I'm feeling better, Liz, really." "I don't care; take them."), and set him up back on the couch with a heating pad for his chest and enough creature comforts to keep him comfortable for a couple of hours. When Ducky called at 6:30 p.m. to check up on Tony, Liz took the call and passed along the required information, then chatted for nearly an hour with the coroner, trading stories about odd cases and medical mysteries. Tony napped.

Meanwhile, Terri was out re-stocking Tony's fridge and pretty much doing any errand he'd needed done. Tony felt guilty sending her out for the dry cleaning and accumulated mail – which the post office had stopped delivering while he was in the hospital and held at the main branch – and even worse when he called her at the grocery store begging like a five-year-old for ice cream. She had to go to three different stores to find the exact type of mint chocolate chocolate chip he was craving. But it wasn't until he mentioned that his car was really looking a little grungy that Terri switched to a tone of voice that indicated Tony might be dangerously close to stepping over the "taking advantage" line. Terri actually did take the car to Tony's favorite car wash and detailer, but Tony knew he was going to pay for that at some point.

The two women stayed for dinner – a delicious and healthy pasta primavera that everyone had a part in preparing. Liz cleaned the kitchen while Terri changed the sheets on Tony's bed and quietly disposed of the "kiss" and "Playboy" balloons, which had deflated somewhat and were lying forlornly on the bedroom floor. Tony, for his part, dozed on the couch watching old westerns on Turner Movie Classics. Once everything was done, Terri and Liz each dropped a kiss on Tony's forehead and let themselves out.

It was 10pm, and Tony's place was clean, quiet and blessedly empty. He climbed into his newly-made bed, with its fresh, crisp sheets, pulled up the newly dry-cleaned and fluffed down comforter, took the last of the meds that had been left for him on the dusted and polished bedside table, and slipped into a blissful sleep, making a mental note to find out when Terri and Liz's birthdays were so that he could pay them back with flowers, chocolate and cashmere.