A/N. Thanks again for all the reviews, alerts, etc. They've definitely encouraged me to get off my backside and write another chapter when I've been seriously thinking about sleeping instead. I'm off to the parents' today for a long weekend, but the laptop will be joining me and they do have broadband, so I'll have a go at writing something. Until then, here's a short chapter to keep you entertained. Enjoy…
---
Tony wasn't sure how he was meant to feel about anything that was going on. When they'd arrived at the hospital, he'd been taken straight to x-ray, then told that his skull fracture wasn't severe enough to require surgery, which was good. They thought the swelling had been caused by his brain flopping around in his skull as his head had hit the dash. Again, that was supposedly good – if the swelling had been caused by the fracture itself, he would have been in a hell of a lot more trouble. They had given him drugs that would supposedly help, but again there was probably no need for surgery. All the tests pointed to no permanent damage. None of this, however, in any way changed the fact that his head hurt more than anything he'd experienced in his life; and he still hadn't been able to see, which had frightened him more than he was prepared to admit. When he added that to the knowledge that Gibbs had still been in a critical condition, he hadn't been a great person to be around. He had snapped at the nurses, as a result of which his reputation among them was not the one he usually earned. He had yelled at Ducky too, but the older man had simply taken the barrage as an indication of undue stress, and had calmly suggested that rest and patience may be the only answer. Tony hadn't wanted to hear it, and as soon as he'd found out that Gibbs was out of danger, he'd blackmailed Abby into stealing a wheelchair and taking him visiting.
The conversation with Gibbs had helped a little. It had been a great weight off his shoulders to find out that the senior agent would fully recover, and an even bigger one to find that the older man didn't blame him for his near-death experience. If he had been thinking rationally, Tony would have known that none of this could possibly be his fault, but the pounding in his head seemed to add a pessimistic tone to his every thought. When he had been returned to his room by an irate nurse who had caught him at Gibbs' bedside, Ducky had been waiting for him, with a word of remonstration. A few hours later, Abby had replaced the medical examiner on 'Tony-watch', and was now curled up at the foot of his bed.
In one way, Tony was grateful for the forensic scientist's presence – it was good to know that people cared enough to bother, but a part of him just wanted her to go away so he could curl up and scream in pain. It was taking a lot of effort to hide the fact from Abby, and he still wasn't bothering to hide his temper from the nurses, who were now not talking to him at all if they could avoid it. This suited Tony just fine. All he needed now was his headache to go away, his eyesight to come back and Gibbs to come running down the stairs and say that it had all been a big mistake and he was absolutely fine, then they could both jump on a plane to Ireland, haul the evil Mrs Doyle back to the Navy Yard and force her to drink tea until she begged for mercy. Somehow Tony doubted that this version of events would ever transpire. He shook his head and immediately regretted it, as the pain in his skull amplified. He couldn't prevent the moan that escaped his lips. Abby was there immediately.
'Tony are you ok?' The words I'm fine started to automatically form on his lips, but he changed his mind. He couldn't keep this up any longer. He had to do…something.
'No,' he admitted quietly. He felt the weight on the bed shifting, as Abby moved to snuggle beside him and wrapped her arm around his shoulder, gently pulling him down to rest his head on a pillow she had placed over her legs. She ran her hand up and down his arm in a gesture intended to comfort. He relaxed slightly.
'You should sleep,' she insisted.
'Hurts too much,' he answered in reply. He had already been told by Ducky that he wouldn't be allowed any painkillers until the swelling in his brain had gone. That wasn't likely to happen for some time.
'You need to heal,' she responded, 'and for that you need sleep. Here.'
Abby's hands moved to his shoulders and then his neck, gently massaging away the tension in his muscles. Finally, she began to run her fingers rhythmically through his hair, carefully avoiding his injuries. Tony was still in agony, but somehow Abby's 'treatment' allowed him to lock the pain away in a corner of his mind and focus on sleep for the first time in days. He yawned. He felt a soft kiss on his forehead as he drifted into his first real sleep since all this had begun.