Chapter 8

Ducky ventured up the stairs to check on Tony...and on Tim. He wasn't sure which one worried him more. As he peeked into the room, he was surprised to see Tony, still unconscious (well, that wasn't a surprise, really)...and Tim sacked out on the bed beside him, asleep, bandages changed and clean.

"He was out like a light as soon as we were able to convince him to lay down," an amused voice said behind him.

Ducky jumped and turned around. A nurse was looking at Tim with a concerned smile. Then, she eased by Ducky and went to Tony's bed.

"How is he?" Ducky asked.

"Which one?"

"Both...but I meant Tony."

The nurse sighed, her smile fading. "It's a waiting game now. We have to see if Tony's body can fight back from all the injuries. He was a long time injured before they got him out and, quite frankly, I'm amazed he's alive at all. That bodes well for the future."

"His spine?"

Finally, the smile returned. "Intact. He shouldn't be paralyzed. The surgeons have performed a partial splenectomy. Hopefully, the spleen will be able to recover and function. It does work, but not every time. If it does, then, Tony's body will be able to fight off infection on its own rather than depending on medication. We were able to stop the internal bleeding...but you already knew this, didn't you."

"Yes, but it never hurts to hear it more than once...helps it all sink in."

"Tim...he was worn out, and I've put in a call to Psych to come down and talk to him. His damage is more psychological than physical, although he needs to take better care of himself in the future."

"I'll see to it myself if necessary."

"Good. I found out that he was released AMA. Sometimes, I hate that we have to allow it...but what I hate more is that no one he knew was here to stop him from leaving."

Ducky nodded. "I, myself, regret that I wasn't here. We lost quite a few people. It was very difficult to know where to be."

"Someone came in with him, but then left him alone. I understand that there were other victims to worry about...but Tim needed someone who was thinking clearly. He certainly wasn't."

"Yes." Ducky gave a deep sigh and felt very old. He sank into the chair beside Tony. "We lost too many. It doesn't feel like there are enough of us to comfort those who are left."

The nurse didn't respond immediately. Instead, she busied herself with changing the IV bag and checking all Tony's vitals. When she finished, she walked around the bed.

"Dr. Mallard..."

"Please, call me Ducky. No need for such formalities."

She smiled. "Ducky...I don't envy any of you the long road ahead...but you all have such closeness. I think you can make it." She began to head to Tim's bed when Ducky caught her hand. Gently, and with complete decorum, he kissed it.

"My dear," he examined her tag, "Selena, you are a jewel in the medical profession's crown. You know just how to comfort without patronizing."

Selena blushed. "Thank you, Ducky."

"I will detain you no longer." He turned back to Tony and began to talk to him in a low voice, inaudible to Selena as she checked Tim over. He didn't stir at all. As she left, she looked at the three men and felt her heart ache for them and the troubles they faced as the survivors: one untouched, one psychologically damaged, the last critically injured. All of them needed to heal in their own ways.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs lingered outside the door to Tony's room for a few seconds. He hadn't wanted to leave Abby alone, but neither Tim nor Ducky had come and he wanted to check on Tony. Finally, he pushed open the door and heard the rambling voice of Ducky.

"...and that, Tony, is how you win friends and influence people...in certain circles, of course. I wouldn't recommend that for the places you frequent."

Gibbs took in the scene: Tim, miraculously asleep, Tony, looking dead, and Ducky...looking normal, if not really happy.

"He fell asleep? How did you do it?"

Ducky started a bit and looked away from Tony, his eyes resting on Gibbs only briefly before moving onto Tim's sleeping form.

"I didn't. It was Selena, Tony's nurse. Timothy was already asleep when I arrived. We're to get him to eat something when he wakes."

Gibbs nodded. "What about Tony?"

"Unchanged, but they are hopeful that he'll recover eventually. Abigail?"

"They were saying something about her pupils reacting to light, but she's not awake by any means." Gibbs rubbed a hand over his tired face. "Ducky...we've lost too many. We can't lose any more."

Ducky stood and walked to Gibbs. "You mean that you cannot lose any more."

"I'm almost all that's left. The best keep getting taken."

Ducky smiled. "That doesn't say much for those of us who survived, now, does it."

Gibbs smiled in return, but there was too much sadness in it. "They keep dying, Ducky. Pacchi, Kate, Paula...and now, look at how many others, all at once. I don't want to lose them." It was the hardest thing he'd done, admitting that weakness. Ducky said nothing in response, but he nodded in understanding.

"Why don't you stay up here for a while. I'll go down and bore Abigail with more stories. She always did enjoy a rousing cricket match." Ducky chuckled to himself and left Gibbs alone with the remnants of his team.

Taking over the vacated seat beside Tony's bed, Gibbs stared at his senior agent. No words would come. He couldn't think of anything to say...or do. For once, the Gibbs slap didn't seem like the solution, and there was nothing else he could do...except wait. Abby had family...so did Tim. They should be called, if they weren't already on their way, but Tony...his father was...somewhere, and Gibbs felt no need to call him, based on how Tony had acted...actually, he didn't want to call any of them. He told himself it was because he wanted to be sure that he had good news first, but...it wasn't because of that. It was because he was their family. They were his family, all he had, and he wasn't ready to give them up.

So he kept vigil, helping in the only way he could: by being there.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim opened his eyes, wondering where he was. He couldn't remember. All he knew was that things were much clearer than they had been...and his stomach was empty. It had been empty before, but it hadn't mattered. It probably shouldn't matter now. In fact, he was ashamed that he could think of something so banal as food. As optical stimuli finally registered in his brain, he remembered where he was: the hospital...in Tony's room. He had come to visit Tony and he had fallen asleep! He felt the twisting of guilt in his gut, blocking the need for sustenance and he took a deep breath, wishing for the fog again, wanting it to block things out like the recent past. He squeezed his eyes closed once more reaching for unconsciousness, for something, anything to distract him.

"Tim? You awake?"

Gibbs. Gibbs was there. He had seen his weakness. What was the point in hiding it? Tim nodded, not wanting to open his eyes and see the understanding, the pity...the condemnation that surely resided in Gibbs' eyes.

"Are you hungry?"

Resolutely, Tim shook his head. Unfortunately, his stomach wasn't in on the plan to maintain his stoicism and it rumbled loudly. Neither of them had the heart to laugh, but, as Tim opened his eyes, they looked at each other...not in the eye. Tim couldn't bring himself to do that.

"Maybe, a little," Tim amended reluctantly, his voice soft with pain.

"I am, too. Let's just go and grab something."

"We can't leave him alone," Tim protested. "We can't just leave."

"We won't be gone long. Selena said that she'd come and get us right away if there's any change. Tim, you need to eat."

Tim swallowed, his throat feeling tighter than it had been before as he looked at Tony. Slowly, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and got onto his wobbly legs. Gibbs was there in an instant.

"Come on, Tim. Eating isn't a crime."

But weakness... Tim's mind began. Gibbs kept talking, a strange flow of words that were all the right ones...but jerky and almost meaningless.

"I think I remember the way to the cafeteria. The food isn't too bad."

Why is Gibbs doing this? Why is he pretending that he cares?

"Here we are. I thought I remembered."

Tim followed Gibbs mindlessly through the line, not paying any attention at all to the food Gibbs was getting for him. He was falling steadily back down to where he'd been before...not all the way down. He couldn't fall that far now...but he was near enough. When they sat down at a table, Tim began to eat without noticing what he was eating. He still wouldn't look Gibbs in the eye. He realized how incredibly hungry he was as the food hit his empty stomach. He could have sworn that he felt the acid attack each morsel and break it down at record speed.

"Tim. You need to talk."

Not we...me. The roll suddenly tasted like sandpaper. Tim forced it down.

"What is there to say?" Tim asked, trying to forestall any harangue.

"I don't know. That's why you need to talk. You've said next to nothing, and you need to."

"Why? What good can come of it?"

"Talk to me, dang it!" Gibbs snapped. "Tim, do you realize how many people we've...I've lost in the last thirty-six hours? Do you realize that I could still lose more? I don't want to add you to the list. I don't want to watch you allow your useless guilt to eat you away from the inside because that would leave me feeling more helpless than pulling Jenny's body out of the rubble did...and I don't want to feel helpless anymore...all right?"

Gibbs sounded like he was crying, but Gibbs never cried. Tim had rarely seen him exhibit any emotions beyond anger or mild amusement. He couldn't possibly be crying. Gibbs couldn't be saying the words that Tim had heard him say. It wasn't possible.

"Please, Tim. Talk to me."

Tim looked up from his half-eaten roll, certain that he would see that what he had thought he had heard was a mistake. Gibbs would be staring him down with that piercing gaze he used so well. He'd be looking at Tim as if he was an ant under a microscope. Gibbs would be...

Tim looked up...and saw the tears.

Gibbs was crying.