Wow, 49 reviews for one chapter is totally overwhelming to say the least! So the votes are in and we have 39 votes for the H/C and 4 votes for the epilogue. Majority rules; here's your chapter. I hope it's to your liking :D Maybe a little more whumping than comforting, but that's how I roll :P And, because I aim to please, I've added the epilogue as well, so if you don't want to read this, feel free to jump straight to the epilogue :) Enjoy! Oh, and keep in mind that I wrote this after the epilogue. Not that it matters. Anyways.
Chapter Eighteen
By the time Gibbs and Abby arranged Tony's discharge papers, filled out his multiple prescriptions, helped him change out of the hospital gown and wheedled, then ordered him to get into the wheelchair well over an hour had passed. Gibbs, driving like a sane man for once, took Tony in his sedan while Abby followed in Tony's car which she'd used to drive him to hospital.
Gibbs glanced across at his unusually silent passenger. Tony was resting his head on the cool glass of the window, eyes firmly closed.
"You okay?"
"Yeah," Tony muttered softly. "Stupid concussion."
The car pulled into the parking lot of Tony's building and Gibbs went around to open Tony's door. Tony was embarrassed by how much he was forced to lean on Gibbs, the combined effect of the shoulder injury and the pain meds throwing off his balance. Gibbs gripped him, gently but firmly, guiding him inside. Somewhere in the haze of Tony's mind it registered that this was a side of Gibbs he'd never before seen, except in snatches of affection to Abby. Gibbs being kind and caring. Who woulda thought.
Abby pulled in behind them and toddled over in her boots, standing on the other side of Tony and resting her hand on his back to guide him forward. In any other situation, Tony would have resisted, but he couldn't find the energy, letting her and Gibbs take almost all of his weight.
When he opened his eyes again they were inside his home. He felt Gibbs' hand on his good shoulder, gently pushing him down onto the bed, wedging a squishy pillow under his other arm. He could hear Abby fidgeting at the back of the room.
"Is he okay Gibbs?" She asked softly. "Does he need medication or food or something?"
He snorted even though it hurt his head. "Stop worrying Abby. Meds are already kicking in. I'll be fine. I've hit my head harder."
The king size bed shifted as Abby sat down beside him. "You have a concussion Tony. I find it very worrying that you do this frequently."
He closed his eyes as her fingers stroked his fringe. "Relax. I played college sport Abs. Football. Plenty of head-hitting action there."
Abby said something in reply but Tony didn't catch it, the sedative component of the medication dragging him into sleep.
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Several hours later a strong ray of light from a tiny gap in the curtains hit Tony right between the eyes, bringing him back into consciousness. He grunted in annoyance, rolling onto his good arm so his back was to the light.
"Damn curtains," he muttered in frustration. His head pounded and he wanted nothing more than to go to sleep and not wake up until the effects of the concussion subsided. But it was no good; he was aware of the light. He couldn't escape it.
The bedroom door swung open and it was all he could do not to scream out in agony as a foray of sunlight shone in, assaulting his retinas.
"Ungh." He pushed his face into the crook of his elbow, blocking out the brightness until he heard the click of the door closing and it was relatively dark again.
"My apologies Anthony. Light sensitivity is a common symptom of concussions, although they usually don't present for several hours or indeed days after the initial impact. All of which is quite consistent with your case. From what I hear it was quite a tumble. I do recall an eventful day in my youth –"
"Ducky!" Tony muttered, resisting the urge to pull a pillow over his head. It would probably require too much energy.
He heard Ducky chuckle. "I'll tell you the rest of the story when you're feeling better. Speaking of which, how do you feel?"
Tony closed his eyes as he tried to figure out how exactly he felt. His shoulder was okay; no aching or throbbing. Apart from the strange, almost detached painfulness he'd felt when the adrenalin had worn off, before they reduced the dislocation, his shoulder hadn't bothered him too much. The doctor told him that pain would come later, probably within a few days as the concussion faded and his body set about healing itself, the fluids returning to the damaged joint.
He felt nauseous and hoped vehemently that Ducky would know better than to even mention food – he wasn't sure, but the way his stomach was acting, even an audible offer of food could be enough to make him throw up. And that would do wonders for his head.
Tony was no stranger to concussions, but unfortunately experience didn't diminish the effects. His head pounded, like his brain was pulsating within the strict confines of his skull. Every sound, every vibration, every footstep sent shockwaves through his head, gave him the feeling that brain was rattling against bone. The light from the door and window had felt like lasers cutting through him, scorching his eyes.
"'M okay." He managed finally, squinting up at Ducky. "Why're you here?"
Ducky patted his hand gently. Tony found the warmth kind of soothing. "Dear boy, I came to see you. After how hard you've worked and how you helped Abigail, a forty minute drive is but the smallest of troubles. Here, this should help."
He pried Tony's hand open, depositing two oval-shaped pills on his palm. "Paracetemol. For the headache."
Tony smiled gratefully in Ducky's general direction, shoving the pills into his mouth. He felt something smooth and cool in his hand.
"Milk," Ducky said. "I imagine you won't be hungry for some time, but that's no excuse to damage your stomach lining."
Tony grimaced but allowed Ducky to guide the glass to his lips. Ducky patted his hand once more and straightened up. To Tony's relief he pulled the curtains completely shut.
"Get some rest," Ducky directed, standing by the door. This time Tony was prepared, blocking his eyes from the light.
A few minutes later the door opened slightly and a sock-clad figure darted in.
"Abby." Tony smiled, the meds taking the painful edge off.
"Shoot!" She hissed, coming to a stop in front of him. "I'm sorry Tony, Ducky said you were sleeping, I didn't mean to wake you."
"s'okay Abs. Don't mind."
She grinned, her teeth bright in the dark room and climbed over him, lying flat on the other side of the bed.
"They said you would be alright but I just – I just needed to see for myself."
"I'm fine Abs. Really. Just tired."
She moved closer and he could feel the heat radiating off her body. "Good." A pause. "That's twice you saved me Tony."
"Third time's the charm?"
She snorted, kicking his leg with her toesock-clad foot. "Silly. I though he was gonna kill me."
"Jake wouldn'a dared. If you died he'd have to face Gibbs."
"He did anyway," Abby replied a little mischievously. "I've been watching the tapes from the interrogation. Never seen the silver fox look so scary."
"I missed it, huh?" Tony asked. His recollection of the past twelve hours was pretty fuzzy. He could hear Abby nod, her pigtails scraping on the pillowcase.
"You didn't miss much. He's just a dirty, slimy, disgusting, delusional…"
"Fuck?" Tony offered.
"Yeah. That's right." She curled closer to him, careful not to jostle his arm. "Tony… thanks."
He stifled a yawn, grinning. "I aim to please."
TBConcluded