CHAPTER 6

The voices drifted in and out, sort of echoing. He had to be in Autopsy.

"Damn, I knew there was something wrong."

"Then why didn't you act on it, Balboa?"

Shit, that sounded like Gibbs. Alarm bells went off inside Tony's head. But his body felt so leaden he couldn't move, couldn't act on his instinct to run and hide. Sleep now…hide later…

Balboa was saying tersely, "Agent DiNozzo phoned you with a sit-rep about the case, didn't he, Agent Gibbs? Maybe you should ask him why he didn't tell you that he was injured in the line of duty."

There was a moment of silence and even with his eyes closed, Tony could feel the tension.

"Shouldn't talk 'n' drive," Tony mumbled.

"Damn it, DiNozzo… And you, Balboa, get the hell out of here. I'll talk to you later," Gibbs growled. "And as for you, Palmer–"

Palmer's voice kept fading in and out but Tony caught, "…he needed help and you weren't here…Tony just wanted me to…I thought…"

"You thought? Who gave you permission to think, Palmer?" Gibbs demanded, loud and clear.

"He refused to go to the hospital."

"He could have died, Palmer!"

Man, Gibbs was boiling. Tony couldn't open his eyes even if he'd wanted to; his lids were too heavy. He was sure that Gibbs' face would be turning red. Instead Tony managed to get out, "Don' yell a' the kid." There was a hand on his head, stroking his hair. "'S good." When the light tap came on the top of his head Tony smiled. "Boss?" He knew it was Gibbs' hand but he wanted a verbal confirmation.

"You must have a concussion," Gibbs growled close to his ear. "Otherwise you wouldn't be giving me that shit-eating grin when I'm so angry with you."

"Head hurts."

"That's what happens when you faint and end up on the floor, DiNozzo."

"Don' faint." It came to Tony that he was on the autopsy table once again. Good news was he was still alive. Bad news was Gibbs was gonna kill him.

"No, the floor just came up and hit you in the face," Gibbs said sarcastically.

Tony raised a hand to check out the damage and felt a lump forming on his temple. It was sticky with congealing blood along his hairline. "Ow." Someone took a firm grip on his hand and pulled it away from his face. It had to be Gibbs; the palm had calluses on it.

"Stop touching it. You're bleeding," came the order. Gibbs asked, his voice low and terse, "Who did this to you, Tony?"

Tony opened one eye a crack to get a glimpse of his boss. The look on his face was an interesting mixture of concern, which was nice but unnecessary, and anger, which wasn't at all surprising. Tony had a feeling he should be scared, but maybe it was due to loss of blood or the bang to his head yet he honestly didn't care. Gibbs was waiting for an explanation and the only way to get rid of him was to give him something, even if it wasn't the whole truth. It took a surprising amount of effort for Tony to make his mouth form actual words. What came out was a truncated explanation of the situation that only Gibbs would understand. "Asshole. Knife. Metro's got him."

Jimmy added, "And Tony fell on the floor after I…"

Ignoring the young man, Gibbs asked Tony, "Was this when Agent Balboa was with you?"

"Not his fault." From the narrowing of Gibbs' eyes Tony could tell that Balboa was going to get reamed. "He didn't know," Tony said in an attempt to prevent any blame from falling upon the other agent. The overhead light was too bright so he lowered his eyelids to block it out. Gibbs face disappeared, too, but Tony could still feel the solid body pressing against his good side. Warmth radiated from the man. For some reason Gibbs was still holding his hand and Tony tried to regain possession of it. "My hand…"

"Shut up, Tony, just for once," Gibbs said, not releasing Tony's hand from his firm grip. He muttered, "I should have known you were covering up when you called me." Gibbs gave some terse orders to Jimmy and there was the sound of the younger man's footsteps quickly receding. Gibbs didn't say anything more, though he had taken up the head stroking once again.

"Couldn't tell you, Boss," Tony mumbled. "Get sent away again…"

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"DiNozzo?" Then, louder, "Tony!"

Tony blinked and opened his eyes. "Don' hafta shout." The hard, cold surface under his back was unmistakably that of the autopsy table. He remembered falling hard on the floor. Oh yeah, and waking up to Gibbs stroking his hair and being nice to him, in a Gibbs sort of way. Tony swallowed and looked around. Jimmy was there, standing to his left, Gibbs to his right. There was a blanket draped over his body now but it did little to ward off the chill. It was red and said FIRE on it.

Palmer saw Tony looking at the lettering on the blanket and asked, "Ever hear the one about the little kid who was made of fire telling his dad, who's a big flame, that he was cold, so the old man fire puts a fire blanket over him to keep him warm?" He laughed but then looked puzzled at his own joke. "Except, wouldn't that be considered murder?"

Tony started to smile but he met Gibbs' eyes. There was no mistaking the anger on Gibbs' face. It showed in his posture, rigid as if he was on the parade ground. But there was also deep concern and it warmed Tony up far better than any blanket could. Tony didn't break eye contact when he whispered, "Guess I got caught sooner 'n' I expected." He didn't say he was sorry, even if he was. He didn't like sneaking around behind Gibbs' back, but he'd had the situation under control, or so he'd thought.

Reading his mind, Gibbs asked, "You sorry for what you did or sorry for getting caught?"

Tony lay there looking up at Gibbs' face, reading emotions that he'd never seen in those blue eyes. There was anxiety and something that Tony interpreted as exasperated affection, though he could swear he'd never seen anything like that in the older man's expression before. Had he simply missed them because he'd never had his eyes open enough to actually look for them? Or was this strong feeling he was getting, all his imagination, fueled by Palmer's fantasy that Gibbs had some kind of secret homosexual desire for Tony. No, not Gibbs, that was plain crazy.

Then the image of Gibbs, naked in the Hazmat shower, soaping his genitals came to mind. Only this time Tony pictured himself right up against him, thighs and chests rubbing suggestively while he slid his fingers along the boss's slick, rock-hard erection and…stop! Gibbs is not. He is so not gay. Not bisexual or jumping the fence, either. Shit, maybe he was hallucinating this whole thing. He'd hit his head, right? Blood loss might have a lot to do with it, too. All of a sudden Tony was deathly afraid that Gibbs could see what was going on in his sick, twisted brain.

Gibbs was frowning at him and Tony realized he'd zoned out and was breathing as if he'd run up a few flights of stairs. What was the question? Oh yeah, was he sorry for what he'd done? "What'd I do that's so bad?" he asked defiantly. "It's not like I got cut on purpose. What's the matter, afraid Vance'll take it out on you because you can't control your agents? Or maybe he's gonna send us all off on assignments that'll get us killed this time. That'll prove to you he's the top dog, won't it?"

If Gibbs had been angry before, he was now livid. Most people wouldn't have been able to tell the difference but Tony knew all the nuances of Gibbs' expressions from years of experience. "We will talk about this later," Gibbs ground out.

Tony dropped his eyes and said in a sulky voice, "I don't have anything to apologize for."

"You let me down, Tony."

The words were spoken in a surprisingly quiet voice, but they struck Tony harder than anything else Gibbs could have said. Even if he had let Gibbs down in the past, his boss had never actually said anything aloud. "I didn't…I didn't…" Tony struggled to get up, pressing his left arm tight against his side, wincing at the pain in his side and in his head. He didn't get very far.

Jimmy said sharply, "Don't, Tony!"

Both Jimmy and Gibbs urged him back down onto the hard metal table. It was Gibbs who ordered, "You stay put until we get a real medical opinion. Dr. Mallard will be here in a minute." He was blatantly ignoring Jimmy who was hovering, anxious to help.

Becoming annoyed that he was being held down against his will, Tony pulled up his last reserves of strength to protest, "I don't need-."

Gibbs leaned down, so close that Tony could feel the warm brush of his cheek against his own. Gibbs' breath was warm in his ear as he spoke slowly, enunciating every word. "You do not know what you need." The hand that had captured Tony's gave it a small squeeze and a thumb rubbed across his knuckles. Not only was it out of place but also it was a surprisingly reassuring gesture that caused Tony's face to flush.

The older man pulled back a few inches, still too close for comfort as far as Tony was concerned. Tony opened his mouth to retort but refrained when he saw Gibbs' expression. His boss was, indeed, disappointed, but there was something else in his blue eyes, something that Tony couldn't interpret. All he knew was that his heart was beating too fast and that, for once, he didn't know what to say. Tony closed his eyes and turned his head away, embarrassed at Gibbs being called in to deal with him, and not wanting his boss to see his reaction.

He must have drifted off because the next thing he knew Ducky was there, giving him gentle instructions and trying to remove his jacket without disturbing him too much. Tony moaned and Gibbs barked an order to cut the damn thing off, which they did.

Tony opened his eyes and groped for Jimmy's arm, saying, as if they were the only ones in the room, "You were pullin' my leg, right?" Jimmy glanced up, somewhere beyond Tony, presumably at Gibbs. Tony could sense he was standing close but he ignored his boss's presence and tugged on Jimmy's arm to get his attention.

Jimmy took a moment to focus, but he appeared to find some strength from Tony holding his arm, because he nodded. "No, I wasn't kidding. You heard me right."

"You've got it all wrong," Tony mumbled.

"It doesn't matter now, Tony. I'll be taking you home soon," Jimmy said bravely.

"Stick shift," Tony reminded him. He remembered Ducky complaining how Gerald had messed up his Morgan's gearbox when trying to escape from Ari. What was it with these ME's assistants that they didn't know how to drive a standard shift?

"You'll have to teach me," Palmer said, indicating he was game to learn on the fly.

Tony did not want his gears stripped by Jimmy's first attempt at driving standard. Not on his baby.

"Yes, well, whatever mischief you two are up to," Ducky said dryly, "save it for later." He removed the bandage from Tony's ribs that Jimmy had applied so carefully only a short time earlier. The medical tape stuck and pulled enough to cause Tony to wince. "Hey, I'm still alive here, Doc."

"I do apologize, Anthony."

"Hey, you shoulda been here when Jimmy took off the duct tape," Tony said with a pained smile.

The glare stemming from Ducky's pale blue eyes almost put Gibbs' version to shame. "I understand the need for improvisation out in the field, but using duct tape is unconscionable." Ducky worked more carefully from then on but he didn't stop until the freshly sutured wound was fully exposed. The doctor made some harrumphs and then interrogated Jimmy about the depth of the wound and how much blood loss there had been, while he took Tony's blood pressure and shone a light in his eyes.

Jimmy managed to hold his voice relatively steady while he responded, but he avoided looking anywhere near Agent Gibbs. Tony didn't blame him. Gibbs could be very scary when he put his mind to it.

Dr. Mallard said, "It appears that the medical aid you rendered was adequate, Mr. Palmer, even if your concept as to what constitutes appropriate behavior in an assistant…"

Ducky was talking while he reapplied a bandage to Tony's ribs, but Tony didn't listen. He realized that Gibbs was still holding his hand. If he concentrated on the feeling of the rough, work-worn fingers encompassing his hand in a gentle hold, he was able to remove himself from thinking about what was under that bandage and how much it hurt.

The doctor cleaned the area on Tony's temple that had struck the floor and adhered a bandage over it. "I believe he is suffering more from the blood loss than from the bump to his skull, Jethro. As far as concussions go, Anthony's appears to be mild. Of course you know all of the proper precautions to take so I won't bore you with a recitation of them. His pressure is a little low but his pulse is fine. I prescribe bed rest, drinking plenty of fluids, and no visual stimulation. I can provide you with adequate medication to see him through the night, and I will fill a prescription and bring it around tomorrow." Ducky moved Palmer aside and leaned over to speak sternly to Tony. "As for you, young man, I will be giving you a thorough check-up tomorrow morning. At that time I expect to hear your explanation as to what prompted this escapade."

Looking into the doctor's kind yet uncompromising eyes made Tony feel like a kid again. A kid who was in big trouble. Although Tony planned to stick up for himself, the words that came out of his mouth were, "Yes, Ducky."

"Let's get you up then," Ducky said. Working with Gibbs, he righted Tony into a sitting position. Two white pills were placed in his hand, a glass of water procured. Although he protested for show, Tony took the medication. His head was killing him and any relief was welcome.

Ducky took the empty glass from Tony. "I'm going to fit you with a sling, to keep that arm from rubbing against the wound, which must be very tender."

Once the sling was in place, with Tony's left arm strapped high across his chest, Gibbs arranged his own sports jacket over Tony's bare shoulders. "You'll catch a cold," Gibbs said, a little defensively, at Tony's look of surprise. "Put your arm around my shoulder," Gibbs ordered and Tony complied without thinking.

Together Gibbs and Ducky braced Tony between them, and he could feel them watching him closely when he rose to his feet. His knees were so weak that he would have fallen if Gibbs' arm hadn't been around him, and Ducky supporting him on the other side helped. The two older men took a moment to ensure that the placement of their hands wasn't hurting Tony and then Gibbs said briskly, "Let's get you to the car."

Tony turned his head and saw Jimmy nervously hovering a few paces behind them. "Jimmy, my car keys, in the jacket–." He watched Jimmy rummage in the pockets of what used to be an NCIS field jacket but was now a cut-up, bloodstained mess.

"Got 'em!" Jimmy held the keys to Tony's Mustang aloft.

Gibbs snatched the keys out of Palmer's hand as they passed him. "You won't be driving, DiNozzo."

"Palmer's driving me home, aren't you, Jimmy?" Tony sent a plea in Jimmy's direction, even going so far as to mouth the word 'please' while hoping Gibbs didn't catch him begging.

Palmer followed them across the morgue, saying bravely, "But Tony asked me to drive him."

"I am afraid not," Dr. Mallard said in a voice that allowed no leeway. "Mr. Palmer, you will remain right where you are until we have placed Anthony safely in the car. When I return I intend to have a word with you about practicing medicine without the proper credentials, and the possible connotations that your actions may have upon your career."

Jimmy paled and stayed put, mouthing, "Sorry," in Tony's direction. "Here, these are Tony's." He handed Gibbs the rest of Tony's things; gun, wallet, and cell phone.

Tony wasn't sure how it was that Ducky was able to speak in such a refined way yet still managed to sound threatening, even to those who knew him well. "I want my car keys, my gun." He smiled at his boss expectantly even though he knew he didn't have a hope in hell of getting his own way.

Gibbs responded with a deadpan look. "You won't need 'em. You're coming to my place."

Tony halted and tried to pull away from Gibbs and Dr. Mallard but all his struggle gained him was a searing pain up his left side. "But…but I don't want to go to your place."

"Keep walking, DiNozzo." Gibbs and Ducky kept heading towards the exit with a reluctant Tony between them. Gibbs glanced sideways at Tony and asked, "Something wrong with my house?"

"Uh…no. It's not that I don't like your home, Boss, 'cause I do, but I'm gonna go with Jimmy and–" Gibbs grasped Tony's wrist firmly in a warning to behave, and Tony knew it was useless to fight the inevitable. He gave a small groan and gave in.

With Gibbs on one side and Ducky on the other, the two men managed to get Tony safely installed and seat-belted in the passenger seat of Gibbs' car. Ducky waved goodbye when Gibbs accelerated past him, then went back into the building to deal with Palmer. At that moment Tony almost felt sorrier for his friend than for himself. Almost.

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