Chapter Two - Subcutaneous

Abby was still sitting on the sofa, wallowing in her own visions of self pity, when the front door creaked open, and Jackson Gibbs shambled into the house. Without acknowledging her, he walked into the kitchen, poured himself a glass of water, and then asked, over his shoulder, "want anything?"

"Um. No, thanks," muttered Abby. "Did you talk to Gibbs? I mean, Jethro? I mean, Leroy?"

Jackson waited until he'd gotten his drink, and settled himself back on the sofa next to her before responding to the question. "Yeah, I saw him."

Abby expected a little bit more than that. When Jackson didn't continue, but instead but several moments staring contemplatively into his now empty glass of water ,she swallowed, and tried not to look as impatient as she felt. Jackson certainly didn't seem as agitated as he'd been before he'd left to go to the hospital, and that was a good sign. Actually, she noted, he looked relatively cheerful, relieved, like a big weight had been lifted. That was a very good sign, and it probably meant that Gibbs was doing just fine. Wasn't he going to tell her not to worry, that Gibbs was getting better?

Suddenly, Abby was aware that Jackson was watching her carefully, with the same sort of curious, patient stare that she'd seen so often on his son. Jack's gaze, however, was a bit less intimidating, and she could make out something in his knowing eyes that looked a bit too much like pity. "If you want to ask," he said, "ask."

"How is he?" she asked.

Jackson smiled the smile of a man who'd just woken up from a nightmare to find everything in the same, peaceful place it had been when he'd fallen asleep. "He's good," he told her, "he's real good. They fixed him all up. Got an ugly scar on his chest, but maybe after some time getting used to it, you'll think it gives him character. One thing no Gibbs has ever lacked is real, solid character, and my Leroy's no different."

Abby breathed. She hadn't exactly been holding her breath, and yet for the first time in hours, she didn't feel as though she were suffocating.

"So, now I get to ask a question." Jackson adjusted a pillow, making himself a little more comfortable. "How come you're still here?"

Abby had been prepared for that one. "I was looking after Amira and Leyla, until Ducky could get them over to his house. Ziva and Tony are waiting there for him, but they were helping him get everything…you know, secured. Not just against outsiders, but like, child-safety secured. So while they were doing that, I was-!"

Jackson shook his head, interrupting her rambling. "I don't mean why are you still in the house, I mean how come you aren't at the hospital with Leroy?" Abby had been expecting that one, too, but she didn't have as ready an answer. It turned out that she didn't need one. A moment after asking the question, Jackson shrugged. "Never mind, you don't have to tell me. It's all over your face. Not a Jew, are you?"

"No," replied Abby, a little surprised. "Catholic."

"Sure." Jackson nodded. "I knew it had to be one of the two, with all of that guilt you're carrying around. Come on." Standing up, he started towards the door. "You're driving. I assume you've got a car parked somewhere around here."

"Where are we-?" asked Abby, but Jackson, again, didn't give her time to finish.

"Don't play stupid," he said, smiling a bit to take the bite of his words. "We're going to the hospital. I'm the concerned father and you're the squatter, so it's your responsibility to look after me and take care of my irrational whims. Right now I'm irrationally inclined to go and see my son. Get a move on, or we won't make visiting hours."

***

Unlike lots of people she knew, Abby had no problem whatsoever with hospitals. The equipment, the abundance of medical mystery and the thrill of lives in the balance was something that delighted her in her own every day work environment, and so had only a pleasurably familiar affect.

The more she saw of Jackson Gibbs, the more Abby became aware of a marked family resemblance. Not only were the Gibbs men's mannerisms and facial expressions somewhat similar, but the way that Jack took charge of a situation reminded her distinctly of her favorite boss.

Perhaps that was why, when Jackson pushed open the door to Gibb's hospital room, Abby was so surprised to see Gibbs lying face-up in the bed, looking distracted and exhausted. Jackson's vitality had so reminded her of the forceful and gung-ho man she was used to that this spent version of Gibbs was newly alarming, even though she'd known about his surgical ordeal.

"Leroy," Jackson called out, "I don't want to make a nuisance of myself, but I've brought you a visitor."

Gibbs sat up in bed, swung his legs over the side, and turned around to look at them. He was the same powerful man that Abby so admired, and, she thought, Jackson was right. The scar on Gibbs' chest only served to make him even more mysterious and heroic looking.

"Hope you don't mind," Jackson was saying. "I know how you don't like anyone to give you too much attention, but I figure, coming all the way from Pennsylvania, I got special rights."

Gibbs had eyes only for Abby. Slowly, very slightly, he gave her one of his off-guard, genuine little smiles. "Nah, dad," he said quietly, "I don't mind."

It was like something had snapped, some barrier had broken, or the walls had suddenly fallen down. Abby ran forward and threw her arms around Gibbs neck, burying her face in his shoulder. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," she whispered, "you're all right, you really are all right…I was so worried, I couldn't sleep…Amira was crying for hours, like she just knew, and I thought maybe that was a sign, and I was going to find out something horrible had happened to you…but you're okay." Pulling back, she asked quickly, "you are okay, aren't you? How do you feel? Does it hurt a lot?"

Gibbs grunted, torn between a smile and a painful grimace. "I'm all right, Abs," he insisted, patting her gently on the back. "But yeah…it hurts when you put pressure on the wound like that."

"Oh!" Abby jumped back immediately, almost knocking over a small bottle of pain medication that lay behind her on the bedside table. "I'm sorry!" Once she got her feet back properly on the ground, she took a moment to make use of her new vantage point, giving Gibbs a quick, impressed once-over with her eyes. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Just," she said with a grin, "when I thought you couldn't look any more manly. You know, I really like scars. I think they're fascinating. You can really tell a lot about a person by asking about their scars. Can tell all sorts of stories."

Gibbs, still smiling, nodded as he considered that remark. "This one does tell one hell of a story," he said. Behind them, Jackson chuckled.