Gibbs paced the waiting room with all the patience he was known for. None. And then some.

He had gone from sitting to pacing, to sitting again more than once and even the nurses who had been passing regularly over the past hour or so had lost count of just how many times he had gone through this cycle. Down. Up. Walk around. Down. Up. Walk around. Although, they would admit that he had broken up the sequence at least once to go to the coffee machine at the end of the hall for some terrible machine paint thinner.

He had winced at the initial taste but had chugged back three of the small Styrofoam cups within minutes of each other.

"Sir," the nurse at the desk caught his attention when he went striding past her desk for the third time in 60 seconds – the waiting area was only a small one after all - he turned his gaze on her, "why don't you go to the cafeteria, I can send someone to fetch you when the doctor had finished,"

It a show of open rebellion Gibbs shook his head, told her he was just fine where he was, and sat down.

In two minutes he was back up and pacing again.

"Jethro,"

Gibbs looked up from the coffee machine where he was collecting his fifth cup of the swill they thought to pass off as semi-decent coffee. They probably thought anyone who found themselves in a waiting room long enough to need a drink didn't really care about the taste.

"Duck,"

He ignored the change the machine was spitting out at him and coffee in hand met the doctor halfway along the hall.

"Any news?" he held out the untouched drink to the older man who simply shook his head with a grimace, eyeing the murky liquid like it would spring some unknown creature.

"You can come in and see her now,"

Gibbs did not like hospitals.

And walking into the room and seeing Timothy McGee hooked up to a heart monitor and with a bandaged head put him off them even more. The monitor was beeping steadily so it did have that in its favour tonight.

She was laying back with her eyes shut but her fingers were tapping against her hospital issue linen covering her stomach.

She was pale – even for her – and had some swelling beginning to show along her cheek.

Gibbs' anger began to rise again.

One of them had struck her on top of giving her the concussion or had the hit been a contributing factor to the head injury. Had she gone down after receiving it? He hated not knowing.

"Is she alright?" he spoke low, out of reflex of being in a hospital he supposed. After all, if her tapping fingers were anything to go by she was not asleep

"The vomiting has stopped and she is less confused. We have to keep her awake though for a while longer just to make sure of no other side effects. She suffered quite a blow to the head. Luckily though, apart from some bruising there was no damage to her skull and the chill she received has not developed into hypothermia,"

"What about the blood?" Gibbs asked, remembering being told about the bloody piece of clothing and then seeing Tim's blood matted hair when she was pulled from beneath the bench.

"It was a bleeder. But superficial," Ducky explained as he shut the door gently behind them.

Ducky approached the bed and Gibbs followed at his heals.

"Tim, my dear, you aren't supposed to go to sleep, you know," Ducky reproved her gently as he touched her shoulder.

"I'm not asleep," her voice was rough.

From the cold or from screaming for help?

"Oh really?" Ducky teased.

Gibbs watched them closely as Tim opened her eyes and she smiled slowly at Ducky.

"Are you questioning my word, doctor?" she sounded warn out, some of her words slurring together and Gibbs noticed her eyes weren't quite focusing on any one thing, but there was a strain of humour in her tone that seemed almost inappropriate under the circumstances.

"Not at all my dear," he patted her cheek with the affectionate touch of a father.

Gibbs stared.

When had he missed that?

"Someone is here to see you, Tim,"

Ducky stepped aside to sit in the chair at the other side of the bed and Gibbs filled the space he left beside the bed.

"Boss?" Tim frowned at him, her eyes holding a confusion that had nothing to do with the concussion.

"Hey," Gibbs had no idea what to say, this was fresh ground for him.

DiNozzo, Abby, hell even Ziva, he would have no problems talking to in the same situation but with Tim he froze up. It was just so alien to him, having the young woman in a hospital bed like this.

Ducky came to his rescue.

"The police officers searched your phone and contacted him my dear," he explained simply.

A look of comprehension erased the confusion.

"Are you up to telling me what happened, McGee?" Gibbs asked, scanning for a place to sit, but other than the bed and the chair that was already in use there was nowhere. He remained standing.

The heart monitor picked up slightly but she nodded her head.

"I was taking Jethro out for a run. He'd been cooped up inside all day. It went OK until-" she looked up at him, "Boss I think there was some kind of drug deal going down because he just wouldn't leave one of these guys alone. I got him on the leash again and started away and then someone started to pursue. I ran but I wasn't fast enough and when someone grabbed me from behind I tried to-" she paused, a look of raw panic filling her eyes as they widened and darted about the room, looking for something that obviously wasn't there.

"Where is he?"

Whatever calmness Tim had possessed a moment ago was gone in the blink of an eye.

"Who?" Duck rose from his chair and picked up one of her hands, stroking it in an attempt to calm her down.

"Jethro. Where is he Ducky?" her eyes were begging for information.

Gibbs was confused for a moment. Jethro? He was Jethro. But he knew that Tim would rather die than address him by his name. It had taken months for her not to blush when she called him Gibbs, far used to addressing people as Sir or Mister. He figured that was why she gravitated more toward the 'Boss' title. In her head she could pretend it was 'Sir' she was saying.

"Where is the dog?" Ducky translated and Gibbs remembered the name Abby had rechristened the dog with. Just how had Tim ended up with it though? The dog had attacked her after all.

That would have to wait for later.

"In a vets van, sedated," he told them both mater-of-factly.

"Sedated!" Tim sounded appalled at the very idea of her dog being put to sleep against his will – no matter how temporarily, "Was he hurt? Is he alright?"

"He wasn't hurt but it had to be done," Gibbs rushed to calm her down and defend the decision as her heart monitor beeped at an alarming rate, "You've got yourself an excellent guard dog there Tim, he wouldn't let us near you. Putting him out was the only way we could get near you,"

It took a minute or two but eventually Tim was relaxed on the bed again.

"Now that the matter of your four legged hero has been settled my dear," Ducky patted the tops of Tim's hands, "You will be released in the morning if no further side-effects manifest themselves,"

"Shouldn't she have someone with her, Duck?" Gibbs knew all about head injuries. They were tricky things.

"Yes indeed, Jethro. That is why she will be coming home with me," Ducky looked to a surprised Tim, "If you accept, of course my dear," he smiled.

"I...I wouldn't want to put you out Ducky," she stammered.

"Oh you won't be putting me out, besides, mother would love your company and your Jethro can put the corgis in their place – at least for a little while,"

Hi guys,

Needless to say I know little to nothing about concussion. Although I do know that they can make you very sick and that you need to stay awake or be woken often…

I hope you liked this instalment.

Please don't forget to drop a line and let me know what you think.

I am sorry for the slight delay. I am trying to learn the bells and whistles of Scrivener for NaNoWriMo so my YouTube video watching went on a little longer than I expected.

:)