Author's Note:
Thank you for all the reviewers, favorites and followers of this story…
I must just say… I love Mark Harmon as Agent Gibbs…
Here's the next chapter… Enjoy!
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Director Vance walked into the bullpen and looked around.
"Where is Agent Gibbs?" He asked no one in particular.
"He just went out for coffee, Director. Is there anything I can help you with?" Tony asked moving around his desk.
"No Agent DiNozzo. Have Agent Gibbs came and see me when his back." Vance said, moving towards the stairway that led up to his office.
"Will do Director." Tony replied, his eyes moving to Ziva. Ziva watched Vance as he disappeared into his office.
"Gibbs doesn't take this long to get coffee." Ziva stated.
"He has been gone almost 50 minutes. Do you think his okay?" McGee asked.
"Call him and let's find out." Tony snapped, more from worry than anything else.
"No." McGee replied. "You're the senior agent. You call him."
"As the senior agent, I'm ordering you to call him." Tony insisted.
"Oh stop bickering. I'll call Gibbs." Ziva said picking up her handset. She dialled Gibbs' number and waited.
"There's no answer." Ziva replied, frowning as she placed the handset down.
"Trace his phone McGee." Tony ordered standing up and moving to stand behind McGee.
"Do it McGee." Ziva urged moving to stand next to Tony.
"Gibbs is going to kill us for this …" but he started the trace.
"He is in the navy yard, 3 blocks away." McGee stated.
"Good." Tony sighed in relief, "his on his way back."
"Remember, we're going to keep an eye on him," Ziva said, "without him becoming aware of it."
"Should we let Ducky and Abby know?" McGee stated. "Gibbs may not tell us what's going on but Abby and Ducky have ways of making his talk."
"Good thinking McGee. Let's get everyone together in Autopsy in 15." Tony stated.
"I'll call Abby," stated Ziva leaving McGee to call Ducky.
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Gibbs awoke slowly feeling the icy wind around him. His body was painfully stiff.
He felt like he could not get in enough air, his breathes shallow and fast.
He realized that he was lying on his side on the cold, hard pavement exposed to the elements
The side of his head ached, his ear felt about ready to shatter and he could smell blood.
His blood…
Slowly and cautiously, he opened his eyes. It took him a few long minutes to take in his surroundings. The lopsided view of buildings and neatly manicured gardens made him feel disorientated and confused.
Where am I?
What am I doing on the ground out in the open?
Why can't I hear anything?
No being able to hear made him panic. Shivering he rolled onto his back. Nausea assailed him, forcing him to roll back onto his side. He gagged, bringing up all the coffee he has drank that morning. He blinked as he watched blood from the side of his face, drip down and swirl around in the undigested coffee on the pavement. The smell of bile mixed coffee and metallic blood made him gag again. But there was nothing more his stomach had to give up.
Somehow he managed to roll away from the awful puke, his body still convulsing from the nausea he felt, his head in a vicelike grip of pain. He lay on his side again, taking deep breathes. He ran a trembling hand over his face and wiped blood away from his left eye. Lying still for a few moments he once again tried to assess where he was and why he felt so ill.
Moving only his eyes, he noticed the shape of the building in front of him. He took in the lights lining the path he lay on and the "Navy" imprint on the pavement a few feet away from him.
Navy yard… he closed his eyes and took a deeper breathe.
If I can just get to my feet… he thought.
Tentatively he braced himself for an onslaught of sensations as he used his arms and pushed himself up into a sitting position.
The navy yard tipped and whirled around him. Sounds from all directions raced back to him in painful, torrential waves making him cry out as pain exploded deep inside his head. Grabbing his head between his hands, he gritted his teeth in an effort to stay upright.
By sheer force of will, he hung on, refusing to collapse into darkness. He realized that he was not going to make it back to the bullpen on his own. He was in too much pain, to cold, too confused to handle this situation.
He would have to get help. Taking shallow breaths, he moved his hand down to his pocket and searched for his phone. Wrapping his hands around it he dragged it out of the pocket and flipped it open.
He pressed down hard on speed dial number five.
"Dr Mallard." A response came on the second ring.
"Duck…"
"Ah Jethro. I have not seen you today. I have some interesting finding I would like to share with you about our Patty Office Mason. Did you know…"
"Duck… please." Gibbs' strained voice gave Ducky pause.
"Jethro, what is it?"
Just then Tony, Ziva, McGee and Abby entered Autopsy.
"Jethro, talk to me." Ducky demanded.
"Is he okay?" Tony asked placing the call on speaker phone.
"Boss, are you okay?" Tony demanded.
"No….. Argh!" They all heard the pain in his voice before they heard the phone fall and the call disconnect.