CHAPTER 8

Tony couldn't really sleep because of the cold packs, but he dozed on and off. At some point he became aware of the smell of coffee and the feeling of the back of Gibbs' hand touching him lightly, just under his jaw. Restless, Tony sighed and turned his head towards Gibbs and for a moment, Gibbs tuned his hand and cupped the side of Tony's face. Tony gazed up at him and murmured, "Peas defrosted yet?"

"Not yet. You feel a little cooler." Gibbs took Tony's temperature again. "Looks like it's down a degree. I'm gonna hold off on calling Ducky. He'll be here in another hour anyway. Leave the cold packs where they are."

Tony looked in the direction of the window and saw the sky was lightening. It had to be around five. He rolled his head on the pillow and asked, "Gibbs?

Gibbs sat down in his chair again and grunted in reply.

"Can I ask you something?" Tony hated it when anyone asked him a loaded question, knowing that whatever came next would invariably be awkward or embarrassing. Gibbs didn't twitch a muscle but Tony was sure he saw the blue eyes flicker with unease.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you ask for permission?"

"Okay," Tony acknowledged. He nodded in the direction of the bedroom across the hallway. "You have a really nice bedroom of your own right there – okay, it would look like a monk's cell if it wasn't for the books – but you sleep downstairs on that lumpy sofa or under your boat. You got something against real beds?"

Gibbs looked decidedly uncomfortable and turned his head away, rubbing his unshaven jaw. He hesitated, then said, so softly Tony almost didn't catch the words, "This was our room."

Tony didn't need a translator to know that Gibbs meant his and Shannon's room. But his wife, and their daughter, had been gone for seventeen years. Tony wondered what it would be like to have a husband so devoted to you that just the thought of your life together could make him sad after all this time. Tony would never know what that would be like, either having a family or losing one, which was pretty sad all in its own way, but still, he could feel Gibbs' pain as if it were his own.

Gibbs, his voice husky with suppressed emotion, said, "I couldn't sleep in here…afterwards." He was quiet for a long moment before he looked directly into Tony's eyes. "The wives wanted a master bedroom so I converted that one, across the hall. Installed a big bathroom. That's why the guest bedroom's small. Had to encroach a bit."

Nobody had slept in this room, in their bedroom, for seventeen years. Then why had Gibbs opened it up to him, of all people? Tony waited a little while before asking, "Why'd you put me in here?"

Gibbs shrugged and said quietly, "Seemed the right thing to do. Shannon wouldn't mind."

It struck Tony that was the nicest thing that Gibbs had ever said to him, and he was touched that the man would allow him access to a bedroom that none of the exes had ever been allowed into. Tony decided that it was going to bear some more thinking about but at that point the need to close his eyes was overwhelming. Tony fell asleep, a smile on his lips, with Gibbs sitting close, watching over him.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

Tony awoke slowly, feeling like crap. It took him about fifteen seconds to realize that he wasn't alone, and another fifteen for it to sink in that it was Dr. Mallard sitting at his bedside and not Gibbs. He started to stretch and groaned at how stiff he was. A bit of pain reminded him of exactly why he was here, and why Ducky was looking at him like he was beyond redemption. "Hey, Ducky," he said, his voice rough with sleep.

"Hmm. So, young man, you have endured the not-so-gentle ministrations of Jethro Gibbs and have lived to tell about it."

"He was gentle," Tony responded without thinking. The cold water bottle and the defrosted bags of peas had been removed, thank God, and sun was streaming in the window. "What's the time?" He coughed and cleared his throat and then coughed again. "Ow." Damn, the coughing pulled at his sutures like crazy.

Ducky helped Tony into a sitting position and patted his back for the duration of his morning coughing routine. Finally, red-faced and exhausted, Tony indicated he was done and the doctor helped him to lie back again.

"Sorry," Tony said, trying to catch his breath.

Peering at Tony with concern, Ducky asked, "Do you always have a bout of coughing in the morning?"

"It's not usually this bad." Tony shrugged. "It goes away when I stand up. My lungs ain't what they use to be. Except they're fine, meaning I can still pass the physical, as you know because you give it to me. You and Brad, and he'd say something if he thought I had anything wrong with my lungs, right?" Tony knew he was over-explaining.

"Hmmm, I daresay you have been reclining in the same position due to your injuries, so it is not unwarranted."

"I'm fine, Ducky. Really." He'd been hacking in the morning ever since he'd had the Y. pestis, but the cough was almost non-existent when the weather was fine. If it was cold and damp he wasn't so good but it had never affected his job.

Ducky nodded but there was still some doubt in his eyes. "You need to make an appointment to see Dr. Pitt as soon as you are able. Meanwhile, I need to examine your body, Anthony, before I tackle an examination of your mind."

"My mind?"

"Yes, that part of you which apparently fails to function properly as soon as you suffer an injury."

Tony laughed, but the doctor did not appear to be amused.

Ducky busied himself by taking Tony's blood pressure, his temperature and other vitals. As he inflated the blood pressure cuff, the ME asked if Tony had any nausea, head pain, or any other complaints. "And I would appreciate a truthful assessment, Anthony, if you please."

"I tell you the truth, Ducky. Mostly."

Tony had a habit of avoiding giving out specifics of any discomfort he might have, but Ducky had considerable skill with wheedling the truth out of his reluctant patient. "The faster you regain your health, the sooner you'll be able to leave," the ME pointed out. Tony gave in and told Ducky how much pain he had, and where it was located, and Ducky nodded attentively. "There now, that wasn't so difficult, was it?"

Tony squirmed a bit but said, "Guess not."

Ducky removed the blood pressure cuff. "Pressure is fine, but you will stay in bed today. You still have a temperature. My biggest concern is how to write this up in a way that doesn't result in anyone's head rolling."

Tony pled, "Don't tell Vance, Ducky. Don't put any of this on my record…please?"

"And why not?" Ducky looked down at Tony with concern.

"It's just that Vance has been giving me the hairy eyeball like he's looking for any excuse to ship me out again and I…I don't think I can take that."

"He cannot expect that active agents, such as yourself and the other members of your team, never suffer any injuries, Anthony." He drew the covers down to Tony's waist. "Shift onto your side a bit so I can have a look at your wound, dear boy."

Tony did as he was told, and rolled onto his side, facing the window. He bit his bottom lip to hold back the cry of pain that wanted to escape. "I didn't want to give him any excuse to ship me out. And please don't blame Jimmy, either."

Ducky asked in a displeased tone, "Is this why you neglected to go to the emergency room? And the reason for enlisting Mr. Palmer to cover up a serious injury?"

Tony glanced over his shoulder and noticed Gibbs standing in the doorway. He had a sinking feeling that his boss had been there long enough to hear much of the conversation. Gibbs' grim expression when he stepped to Tony's bedside confirmed it.

"He will not be shipping any of my people out," Gibbs ground out.

Tony retorted, "Yeah, well, Vance is the guy holding my fate in his sweaty palms, and there isn't anything you can do about it if he wants to fucking reassign me to the South Seas! Next time you won't bother to bring me back!" He rose up on one elbow, but the change in position caused a sharp pain to cut across his side, and he sank back in a sweat.

"Jethro, can't this wait? I am not finished here and Anthony is becoming unduly upset."

Tony closed his eyes and worked at catching his breath so didn't see what his boss's reaction might be, but he heard him say, "I can wait. But we will talk about this, Tony." The last thing Tony felt like was quarreling with his boss. Last night, when he'd been so… so nice, Gibbs had lulled Tony into believing that things between them had changed for the better. Some hope.

Ducky removed the bandage covering Tony's side. Although he didn't look back at the ME, Tony felt him stiffen a little. Not a good sign. There was silence for a few seconds too long so Tony peered over his shoulder to see Ducky's face. He could also see Gibbs', and whereas Ducky's expression was one of professional concern, Gibbs' was more along the line of angry. Jeez, his nostrils were flaring, so not a good sign.

Tony lifted his arm to have a look at the cut across his ribs and immediately wished he hadn't. "Shit." For some reason the appearance was far worse than the night before, but then he'd been a bit out of it at the time. This was pretty grisly, with bruised-looking puckered edges sewn together with black catgut – there had to be twenty stitches – and there was dried blood and something else that Tony really didn't want to know about seeping from the wound. His stomach lurched but Gibbs was around the bed and shoving a bowl under his mouth just in time. There was a hand supporting his head and another at his shoulder until he finished heaving what little he had in his stomach.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

When Tony woke up it was the afternoon and Gibbs was sitting by his bedside reading the newspaper.

Gibbs looked up when he stirred. "You want some water?"

Tony nodded, his mouth too dry to speak. By the time Gibbs had helped him to the bathroom and back, and propped pillows around him and did just about everything except wipe his sweaty brow, Tony was exhausted. He didn't protest when Gibbs handed him two white pills, and soon he slept again.

The next time he awoke the bedside lamp was on and Gibbs was coming in the door bearing a mug of soup. Tony drank it and spoke only in reply to Gibbs' simple questions. Yes, he felt better. No he wasn't in pain. Okay, yes, he was in pain but it was nothing compared to before. They went through the bathroom routine again and this time Gibbs stayed to help steady Tony while he rinsed his face with a cool washcloth and brushed his teeth.

The second Tony's head hit the pillow he was out like a light.

The next morning he was feeling a lot better. Ducky came by at some ungodly hour and Tony managed to grunt 'yes' and grunt 'no' in reply to the doctor's questions. The second he left, Tony fell back asleep.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

Jimmy Palmer, dressed in a tee shirt and sweat pants, arrived early in the morning to help Tony with a shower. Concerned about what kind of punishment Ducky might have meted out to Jimmy for giving him medical attention, Tony asked cautiously, "You didn't get fired did you?"

"Oh no, but I had to listen to an hour-long lecture on NCIS protocol and scrubbed out all the containers in Autopsy," Jimmy replied offhandedly.

"You mean the…the refrigerated units where you store the bodies? God, Jimmy, I'm so sorry. Damn, I should have–"

"No, it's okay, Tony. Really," Jimmy assured him. "The worst part is that he gave me homework. I have to memorize all the infectious diseases ever known to man."

"I can help you study. I think Abby has some flash cards. She collected pictures of diseases of the Middle Ages when I had the plague."

Jimmy's eyebrows went up. "Like ergotism – St. Anthony's fire?"

"Oh yeah, and the bloody flux, puerperal fever, leprosy…"

"Cool!"

Tony shuddered. "Depends on whether or not you've ever had any of them. So, we gonna do this shower thing?"

Jimmy nodded. "You up for it? Dr. Mallard said you can have a shower if I put a waterproof bandage on your wound, and if you agree to sit on a plastic chair, which I brought with me."

Hating the idea of sitting on a chair like a geriatric, but loving that he could have a real shower, Tony gave in. "Okay, I can do that." All that sleeping had done the trick, apparently, and his energy level was a lot higher. Not anywhere near normal, but at least he made it to the bathroom without falling on his face.

The chair, it turned out, was a necessity. Who would have known that it took so much effort just to let water run over your body?

Jimmy was good at remaining unobtrusive for the most part. He set Tony up and let him take care of his own business, but kept close in case he needed assistance. What could have been an embarrassing procedure turned out to be pretty amusing, with Jimmy quoting lines from Psycho while Tony dried off. "'No! I tell you no! I won't have you bringing some young girl in for supper!'"

Tony wiggled his eyebrows and said in a high voice, "'We all go a little mad sometimes.'"

"Oh, I've got another…don't tell me…wait, wait! Okay, I've got it. How about, 'Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay a little longer? Just for talk?'" Jimmy cracked up at his own attempt to sound like Norman Bates.

Tony sat in the chair, now placed in the middle of the bathroom, doing sound effects while he made stabbing motions with his comb. "'Mother! Oh God, Mother! Blood, blood!'" He was laughing so hard he had to hold his ribs. "Ow, ow! Don't make me laugh! Okay, I think we can admit this is weird, acting out the shower scene when I just got stabbed."

Grinning, Jimmy picked up the wet towels. "Hey, why not? Gallows humor is a good way to release tension. Look at the way Dr. Mallard talks to the bodies on his table. He makes it seem normal and somehow okay."

"Yeah, abby-normal. Oh shoot, speaking of abby-normal, I'd better call Abby, let her know I'm not dead. Is my phone around?"

"I took the liberty of updating her on what happened to you, Tony. She wanted to rush over here but Dr. Mallard told her to hold off." Jimmy held out a pair of sleeping pants for Tony to wear. "These okay?"

Tony pulled his pants up with one hand, which wasn't easy. "Thanks for letting her know, and thanks for bringing my things over."

"Oh, I didn't bring them, Agent Gibbs did. He came to the apartment around six this morning when Ducky was over here with you. You should have seen your boss looking around, checking out my bedroom. I thought he was going to start dusting for fingerprints." Jimmy fastened the sling around Tony's arm and across his shoulder. "You want to put a shirt on over this?"

"Nah, I'll go all Tarzan, drive the girls crazy." Tony wondered what Gibbs had thought when he saw that there was only one bed in Palmer's apartment.

"There aren't any girls here, Tony," Jimmy said, rolling his eyes. "Only Gibbs."

"Oh yeah." The thought of going bare-chested in front of Gibbs shouldn't have felt like it was too personal, considering Gibbs had undressed him and taken care of him through the worst of his recovery. It did though, so Tony said, "I changed my mind. Maybe I need a shirt."

"Hang on a minute, let me check the bandage first." Jimmy slid behind Tony, steadying him with a hand on his back.

The minute Jimmy touched his ribs, Tony laughed. "Don't, I'm ticklish!"

"Where, here?" Jimmy's fingers skimmed his side.

Seeing Jimmy at such close quarters, Tony realized that the young man was pretty buff, made obvious by the tight tee shirt he was wearing instead of the sloppy, loose scrubs that were his work uniform. Catching himself admiring Jimmy's big biceps and perfect pecs, Tony's eyes opened wide. Shit, he didn't normally go around openly admiring guys, so what was going on here? Was this a reaction because Jimmy had insisted that Gibbs was interested in him? Had something opened in his mind to the possibility that he might – might – be open to such a relationship? Wow, that was one crazy thought and Tony laughed at himself for even thinking it. Crazy.

They were still laughing when the bathroom door opened abruptly. Gibbs stood there, glaring at them. "You two finished fooling around in here? DiNozzo, get back in bed."

Jimmy stood stock still, a little like a deer caught in the headlights. "We're just…Tony is…we're done, Agent Gibbs."

"What the hell were you thinking, Palmer?"

Tony rose to his feet, annoyed at the way Gibbs was lighting into Jimmy. "Hey! Don't take it out on him." He stood his ground even if he had to keep one hand on the back of the chair to remain steady. As a rule it wasn't too hard, reading Gibbs' emotions, even when his expression was dark and his body language was screaming don't even go there. Tony could usually sense what lay beneath and he knew that Gibbs could read him, too. It was like they were on the same wavelength. Or they had been before he'd been sent off as Agent Afloat.

The problem was that now Tony wasn't sure what the hell was going on with Gibbs. That he was angry was obvious, and it was somewhat alarming to face it in the confines of a small room. Tony admitted he was somewhat at fault here because it was a given that you shouldn't be fooling around when you're stitched up and not exactly steady on your feet. But it wasn't like they had been doing anything wrong and Tony didn't appreciate being told off as if he were a little kid.

Jimmy, standing behind him, placed his hand on Tony's shoulder, to steady him more than to make a point. Even so, Gibbs' expression darkened. Tony didn't miss it, or the way Gibbs glanced at Jimmy and then back, his lips compressing into a thin line.

It was fascinating, watching the effort it was taking Gibbs to contain his feelings. He was doing his damnedest to cover them up, exhibiting a skill that Tony felt was just as good – or maybe better – than his own. Only…only Tony could see something, a crack in that cool façade, a flicker in those icy blue eyes that suddenly weren't quite so icy, and without any warning, the truth hit him with a ferocity that sent his mind reeling. For a moment he couldn't believe it but the longer they stood there, facing off like gunfighters in an old western, with Gibbs trying to make Tony back down by glaring at him, the more the truth felt like a reality. Gibbs was jealous!

Tony never took his eyes off Gibbs'. Gibbs didn't retreat either, and Tony almost laughed at the battle of wills, especially with him standing there half naked, still damp from the shower. Barely a minute had passed but Tony could feel his legs weakening and he damned the asshole who'd knifed him. Time to get out of the bathroom. Intending to defend his actions and to tell Gibbs off for bullying Jimmy, Tony started to speak, but without warning Gibbs turned on his heel and stormed out.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»