Chapter 21
As it had before, consciousness returned slowly, as did normal thought processes. Tim opened his eyes and wondered vaguely where he was. He moved his hand and noticed that something felt wrong. He focused on it and saw a tube running from his hand to... where? Slowly, he followed the tubing to the bag. Finally, he realized that it was an IV. He looked around some more. The IV didn't fit in with the rest of the decor. It looked like he was still in Abby's lab. Memories flooded back. He started to sit up and was startled to feel hands holding him in place.
"Stay down, McGee. Otherwise, Ducky, Gibbs and Abby will all have my hide. You're not worth it."
"Tony?"
"Who were you expecting, McGee? Florence Nightingale?"
Tim stopped trying to sit up and relaxed. "What are you doing here, Tony?"
"Watching you, which has been a pretty boring job up to this point. You don't move much when you're unconscious, McGee. Of course, you don't snore either which I've heard from very reputable sources is a good thing."
In spite of all that was going on, Tim blushed at Tony's remark. He knew there was really only one person who could have told him that. "What happened?"
"All I know is that you collapsed, and that I'm under strict orders to keep you in that bed until such time as Ducky decides you are well enough to attempt the difficult and dangerous maneuver of remaining upright."
"How long was I asleep?"
"Unconscious, McGee, and for the last twenty-four hours."
Unthinking, Tim tried to sit up again. "Oh, no. Robertson–"
Tony pushed him down again. "Don't worry, McGee. We're on it. Abby's working on the program. Ziva's looking at that terrorist cell and Gibbs and I are switching off trying to figure out the location of the first meeting the old-fashioned way."
"I feel fine, Tony. I should really get back to work."
"No way. I told you that I'm under orders–"
"Please, Tony. Let me up." It was embarrassing to Tim that he was so weak that he couldn't fight against Tony's hands.
Tony's face lost all traces of humor. "McGee, you are going to kill yourself if you try to keep this up. I mean it. Stay put."
Tim subsided as much because of Tony's expression as because of his words. "What do I do then?"
"Sleep, if you're smart."
"I don't know if I can."
"Here, take these."
"What are they?"
"Sleeping pills." At Tim's expression, Tony smiled again. "Don't look so horrified. You're in no danger of anything but getting the sleep you've been avoiding."
"I'm not tired," Tim lied.
"That's why you should take them. You still need the sleep even if you don't feel like it." Tony could see how tired Tim was, but he wasn't going to admit it unless Tim proved difficult.
Reluctantly, Tim held out his hand for them. He took the pills without further comment. Then, he looked at the IV again. "Why do I have this?"
"Because you don't seem able to eat in the normal way either."
"Oh."
"Any more arguments?"
"No."
"Good. Hurry up and go back to sleep. I was just on the verge of dozing myself when you woke up." They sat in silence for awhile.
"Tony–," Tim's thought was interrupted by a yawn.
"What?"
"I'm sorry." He yawned again.
"I don't really need the sleep."
"No, not that." Another yawn. He wasn't sure he'd be able to get what he wanted to say out, but he had to try. "Sorry for–," His eyes slid closed.
"For what, McGee?"
Tim forced his eyes open. "For hating you." He stopped fighting the drowsiness and soon was genuinely asleep leaving Tony taken aback by his final statement. He looked at Tim and thought about all the things Robertson had said to him, using Tony's own words. He leaned back, all thought of sleep gone. He had known that Tim got annoyed with his teasing, but he had never even considered the possibility that it went to the level of hatred. When Gibbs came in to take his shift, Tony was quiet. Gibbs noticed but didn't comment.