Drowning

Chapter 15

McGee paused to collect himself before entering his colleague's hospital room. It was no secret that he always felt uncomfortable around injured or sick people, but more so when it was a team member. And his discomfort was only in part due to his inability to know what to say to the patient. To McGee, Dinozzo and Gibbs were pretty much larger than life. Gibbs always seemed to know the way forward, even before the events of a case had finished unfolding. Dinozzo always had that cocky self-assurance that was simultaneously annoying and comforting – especially in a crisis. For McGee, seeing either of them incapacitated was like seeing Superman dosed up on kryptonite. At that thought, McGee made a frantic mental note to himself NOT to EVER verbalise the words 'Tony' and 'Superman' in the same sentence. If he did, Tony would surely show him no mercy and never let him forget it.

Feeling the notebook he was clutching, McGee reminded himself that he was not just paying a social visit to an injured team-member. He needed to get an official statement about the shooting. He had been slightly surprised when Ducky had briefed him fully about the nature and extent of Gibbs' injuries, and informed him that Tony had been re-admitted for at least one night. It had then dawned on him that he, Tim McGee was now the acting senior field agent. It was up to him to direct proceedings and keep what was left of the team functioning. It was a scary thought, but nothing compared to what Tony must have been thinking when Gibbs had retired. So, clearing his throat, McGee knocked on the door before resolutely entering.

Tony was reclined in the bed. The television was on and Tony was armed with the remote, clearly disgusted by the late afternoon offerings of free-to-air TV. Tim couldn't help notice that Tony was wearing very un-Dinozzo-like striped pyjamas.

'Ah, McGee,' said Tony, languidly. 'Come to save me from Sesame Street?'

McGee hovered a foot from the bed and nervously eyed the drip that was feeding into a tube in Tony's arm. He hadn't anticipated that. He started to feel a little queasy.

As amused as Tony usually was by McGee's delicate stomach at crime scenes, this time he decided to cut him a little slack. Thanks to McGee's quick work, Gibbs had been rescued quickly.

'Sit,' said Tony, indicating the chair next to the bed. 'Distract me.'

McGee sat down and opened the notebook.

'I, um, I need to get your statement about the shooting,' said McGee, hesitantly. Tony's gaze was still on the television screen. 'If you're feeling up to it, I mean. Gibbs is still out of it, and we really need to start investigating what happened, and, well, we have investigated the crash site, but if you could tell me what happened, that would be a help, but I can come back later if you're not feeling well – '

'McGee!' said Tony, finally giving him his full attention. 'I've been in here for the last hour watching some of the strangest offerings for kids I could ever imagine, praying for conversation that goes beyond weird creatures saying 'Tubby Toast' and 'Big Hug', and now you come in and ramble away to yourself. Get a grip, will ya!'

'Telly Tubbies,' said McGee.

'What?' asked Tony in dismay.

'Those creatures that go on about the Tubby Toast and big hugs. They're Telly Tubbies.'

'I am SO tempted to head slap you right now, Probie,' said Tony. 'And the only reason I'm not going to is because I'll remind myself of Gibbs and that will mean I must manage to frustrate him in the same way you've just frustrated me.'

The two men exchanged mild glares and McGee relaxed. This was the kind of atmosphere he was more comfortable with.

'Are you sure you're feeling okay?' McGee asked.

'I'm fine,' said Tony, turning off the television and tossing the remote on the bedside table. 'It's just a precaution.'

'That doesn't look like a precaution,' said McGee, indicating the drip.

'That,' said Tony, 'is some kind of antibiotic cocktail because I have some fluid in my lungs that Dr. Pitt is not comfortable with. I'll be out of here in the morning. Which means that you are in charge until then, so let's stop discussing trivial matters and get onto more important things.'

'Alright,' said McGee, only partially convinced. Whenever Tony was not milking an injury or ailment for all it was worth, alarm bells went off. 'What happened?'

Tony passed his hand across his forehead before crossing his arms across his chest.

'We'd driven about five blocks from the Partington House,' he began. 'Gibbs was driving, of course. We were talking about the case as we came to the bend in Forest Road.' Tony stopped as he remembered the compliment Gibbs had paid him and the pat on the shoulder. He swallowed in an attempt to keep down the lump in his throat.

'The windscreen suddenly shattered,' said Tony, his voice quieter than normal. 'Single shot. Bullet went straight into Gibbs.'

Silence invaded the room at that point. McGee was acutely aware of the way Tony's breathing had become shallow and shorter. He felt the hairs stand up at the back of his own neck as he imagined what it would have been like in the car with Gibbs.

'Car ran off the road, after that,' said Tony, expertly reining in his emotions. 'Have witnesses come forward?'

'None yet,' said McGee. 'Are you sure you didn't see any pedestrians roadside? The shooter was definitely on foot.'

'I didn't,' said Tony. 'Gibbs might have. He has eyes like a hawk.'

'Abby's taken the bullet back to the lab', said McGee. 'She can at least get us a make. Ziva's gone over every inch of the roadside. Everything's she's bagged and tagged has gone back to the lab as well.'

'That's good work, Probie,' said Tony, giving him a small smile. The praise made McGee blush a little but he was clearly pleased.

'Don't let the power go to your head, now,' Tony added teasingly. 'I don't wanna have to get out of here tomorrow and hear stories from Ziva about you bossing her around and making her call you Boss.'

'Don't worry,' said McGee. 'I'm not you, Tony.'

'Oh, that hurt,' said Tony, clutching his heart dramatically.

'Well, there's no way I'd be wearing those pyjamas,' added McGee as he stood up, primarily to remove himself from head-slap reach.

'Hey, I only had the clothes I came here with,' said Tony, deciding not to mention that they were now stained with Gibbs's blood. 'Ducky brought these in. I thought they were rather fetching. At least I wouldn't be caught dead in…..'

Tony stopped suddenly before shaking his head.

'At least you wouldn't be caught dead in what?' asked McGee. He had been enjoying the banter and was puzzled by the abrupt end to it.

'It doesn't matter,' mumbled Tony. 'Forget it.'

And then McGee remembered hearing Tony making desperate promises to an unconscious Gibbs in the car. One of them had been to stop teasing McGee about his taste in clothes. By the look on Tony's face, the senior agent had just remembered those frantic moments as well.

'I'd better be going,' said McGee, quietly. 'You should probably get some rest.'

'Yeah,' agreed Tony. 'Hey, McGee. Can you do me a favour? See if you can get find Dr. Pitt. I wanna see if he can arrange something for me.'

'Sure,' said McGee. 'Goodnight Tony.'

………………………………………………

Much later that evening, when the visitors had gone and the hospital corridor lights had been dimmed, Gibbs stirred slightly in his bed. The anesthesia had worn off but now he was sleeping, exhausted by the surgery and the events of the day. Only Ducky and the surgeon had been present when he had briefly woken. They had assured him that his recovery should be quick and that everything else was under control. Gibbs had wanted to see Dinozzo but had been pleased to learn that his senior field agent had allowed himself to be admitted.

Beside Gibbs' bed, in a recliner chair, sat Tony. He had managed to convince Dr. Pitt that he needed to be in the same room as Gibbs by saying that it was an old custom that marines needed a team member to be on guard while they were incapacitated or unconscious. He didn't know if Pitt had bought it or not, but Tony didn't care. This was where he knew he had to be.