Disclaimer: I own nothing but the typos. If you recognize it, it isn't mine.
Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who's read, favorited and followed. And extra thanks to everyone who left a review. I'm glad to hear you like it.
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After the ambulance whisks Gibbs away, the room explodes with chaos. One of the paramedics gave Gibbs' backup weapon to Tim. A small snub-nosed revolver that he didn't know what to do with. He just slips it into the pocket of his overcoat, comforted by its weight. A piece of his boss is still with him.
The other NCIS MCRT headed by SSA Steve Barrows arrives to clear the scene. They are here to work the case of Gibbs' shooting. Tim tries not to feel as though he and Tony should be doing it.
Tim and Tony stand a full room apart, silent and not looking at each other. Tony still stares, unseeing and haunted, at the blood spot where Gibbs fell. Tim was working the scene until Barrows told him to stop because it could hinder the investigation. How, Tim doesn't ask, but he follows the order.
SFA Eloise Davenport keeps him and Tony separated. She says it's to keep them from impacting each other's statements, but Tim thinks Tony doesn't want to be anywhere near him. If he'd gotten that door open the first time, Gibbs would've never been shot.
This entire thing is my fault…
A pair of field agents transports their suspect, Tyler Morgan, back to NCIS Headquarters.
Barrows and his JFA, Kenji Suzuki, work around Tony as though is part of the scene. Their crime scene photos likely include Tony's shoes at the edge of Gibbs' blood puddle.
Tim can only stand on the sidelines, watching as other people do his job. He should be there, working the scene and collecting evidence to prove Morgan is their shooter. He starts a few times to help Suzuki set up the crime scene numbers, but Barrows merely holds his hand out to stop him. There's no malice in Barrows' eyes, but Tim feels the scorch of his gaze.
"You know you can't work this case, McGee," Barrows says softly before adding an "I'm so sorry," as though it makes it everything better.
Tim's skin is crawling. He touches his hands to his mouth as he surveys the blood that soaks deep into the dirty floorboards. He flinches at the metallic taste on his lips.
Will Gibbs survive?
Davenport starts her interviews with Tony first. Her blue eyes are wide with concern and her lips pulled into a somber frown. She asks him questions that all agents have committed to memory. Tony stays quiet, trying to fold deeper into himself.
His voice comes, barely a whisper: "I…I didn't see anything. I only saw Gibbs go down."
Clipping a nod, Davenport gives Tony a one-armed hug. To Tim, it looks strange and uncomfortable. Tony remains rigid, as immovable as stone. His eyes are still fixed on that blood spot.
Tim wishes he could undo everything.
Setting her sights on Tim, Davenport closes the distance between them. She crowds into his personal space, but he doesn't flinch. Up close, Tim notices how her nose is a little too big for her heart-shaped face, there are bags under her eyes, and she's a bottle blonde. He never saw any of that before.
She asks him questions about what happened like he is a witness and not a moderately seasoned investigator. He fumbles his answers and forgets important details like he is a witness and not a moderately seasoned investigator. He tells Davenport about the man Ziva followed. The one with the curly, shoulder-length dark hair.
Davenport looks up from her notepad. Bites her lip. Confusion dancing in her eyes.
"What other man?" she asks. "Ziva didn't say anything before she rushed back to HQ. Said she needed to get a head start on the case against Morgan."
Tim chokes on his own breath. He was there, rounding the corner into the dining room when Gibbs was shot. There were two men. He knows there were two.
Tyler Morgan and another man with dark hair and deep-set eyes so black they looked like coal. He remembers two men and they had to be here because he's a reliable eyewitness. Most eyewitnesses aren't reliable, but it doesn't matter. He's a reliable eyewitness. He's a federal agent, after all.
"We didn't find any evidence of two people," Davenport continues quietly.
She swings her pen around to highlight the room. Following the motion makes Tim's eyes swim and his head spin. He leans against the wall to keep from passing out. She leans closer to his face, checking him carefully. He shakes his head to tell her that he's okay. She doesn't look convinced.
"There was a gun under that chair." Using her pen, she points to a recliner with stuffing spilling out. "And there was the single slug…." Her voice trails off as her face goes pale.
In my boss' gut.
"I saw two men," he repeats, weakly.
"We'll check it out," she promises.
Tim knows what she is saying because he says it sometimes, too. They'll check it out, but he shouldn't expect them to find anything because the witness statement was unreliable. Davenport believes Ziva's statement over his because well, she is Mossad and emotions won't cloud her recollection. Not like him, who must be a mess right now. Not as bad as Tony, but still a complete and utter mess…
I know there were two men. I saw two men, right?
"Eloise, over here," Barrows calls.
After an apologetic smile and a strong hand on his shoulder, Davenport joins Barrows by the front door. They both drop into a crouch to study the floor. The way they move in tandem reminds him so much of Tony and Gibbs, it makes Tim's chest tighten. Will he ever see Gibbs work a scene again?
Tim moves across the room and joins Tony.
He knows he should say something, anything, but all the words feel so hollow after they watched Gibbs nearly bleed to death. Tony hasn't moved from where Gibbs fell.
Tim should be trying to convince Tony to head to the hospital. Ducky went as soon as Tim called, but they should be there too when Gibbs wakes. He opens his mouth to suggest it, but the haunted look on Tony's face stops him.
"Do you think Gibbs is going to make it?" Tony whispers.
Tim snaps his mouth closed. Scrunches his eyes shut. Shifts his weight. Crosses his arms tight against his chest. He looks at the floor, but his shoes are coated in blood. Bile bites the back of his throat.
He wishes he were the kind of person who could lie. Those little white ones that makes everyone feel better while the world burns to the ground. He wishes he could say Gibbs will be back to interrogate Morgan before the weekend starts. Tim isn't that person.
He can't lie, especially not to Tony.
"I don't know," Tim answers honestly.
And Tony nods like a broken wind-up toy. Tim takes his arm and guides him to the car. The rain stopped, but the air is still freezing. The sky is dingy, a dishwater-grey and the sidewalks are slush-covered. Their breath comes in sharp white puffs, Tony is nearly hyperventilating. Tim keeps a hand on his arm.
Tony moves without a fight because he isn't controlling his own body. Tim is right now, leading him down the slippery sidewalks to the car. When they pass the Charger that Gibbs brought, neither of them looks at it. Tim shudders a breath.
Tony seems like he is on an entirely different planet.
Tim drives them to the hospital—St. Alban's. It isn't far from here. Tim changes the radio station. Upbeat 80s music pumps through the car's speakers. Walk like an Egyptian. It takes everything Tim has not to smash the radio into a thousand bits. NCIS might dock his pay, but it would be worth it. He can't stand the noise; everything is far too loud.
Tony stares out the window. Still and silent. His cheeks are moist.
Tim doesn't say anything.
They park in the small, crowded Emergency Department lot and barely find a space. Tim leads the way with Tony slowly shuffle-stepping behind him. They're almost at the doors—Tim can just see the light inside—when Tony stops moving. Tim looks back to find Tony, frozen, at the edge of the ambulance bay. Tony's suit and coat are crusted in so much blood that he looks like a murder victim. There's even some smeared across his right cheek.
Tim tilts his head. "Tony?"
Tony holds his hands out. They're shaking. Tim hadn't noticed just how bloody they are.
"He wouldn't want us here," Tony says.
Tim wheels around. "Who?"
"Gibbs." Tony inhales sharply. "He wouldn't want us here. Waiting."
They've been through hell today and Tim, his brain isn't processing what Tony says. He screws his eyes shut as he struggles to figure out what Tony means.
"I don't understand," he replies.
"Gibbs wouldn't want us waiting to hear how he is." Tony is nodding as though he's trying to convince himself. "He'd want us to hunt down the bastard."
"I know. Ziva and Barrows' team are working on it. They're working the scene and then, they're going to question Morgan."
At the news, Tony's expression turns thunderous. "We need to get to work."
"No, Tony." Tim's voice is more forceful than he intends. "We need to find out how Gibbs is."
Tony gestures at the hospital. "Ducky is there. He'll let us know."
Working his jaw like a spring, Tim swallows hard. He studies Tony for a long moment, truly soaking up just how broken the older man appears.
"Are you okay, Tony?" he asks. "A lot happened today."
Without hesitation, Tony nods. He buttons his suitcoat and slides his bloody hand along the label of his bloody jacket. Since Gibbs was shot, the emotions have been clearly etched across his face. They were emotions Tony never shows and Tim thought he would never see. Sorrow. Worry. Fear. Guilt. And in the blink of an eye, it's all gone. Tony schools his expression into something unreadable. Hard like stone.
"I'm fine," he says, sounding strangely so. "Let's get to work, McGee."
And with that, Tony turns on his heel and marches back to the car. Tim watches him go, wondering what he is supposed to feel right now. He is oddly spent, every heightened emotion worn away until he is only a blunted nerve ending. Cracking, dulled. He works his hands into fists. Gibbs' blood dried on his hands hours ago; it splits against his knuckles. He never had a chance to wash his hands.
He glances back through the Emergency Department doors. Doctors in their white coats and nurses in scrubs mill around a huge desk. They're smiling at each other, whistling past the graveyard and trying to find humanity in the darkest of places.
Tim wants to go inside, sit in an uncomfortable chair, and wait for nothing to happen. Wait for no news because as they last heard from Ducky, Gibbs was in surgery. Still touch and go. Critical, Ducky said, but that word told Tim exactly nothing.
The doctors will know how he'll fare if he survives the next twenty-four hours.
If he survives the next twenty-four hours…
Not definitely lives. IF.
If Gibbs doesn't live, I don't know what I'll do…
He hugs his hands to his chest.
At the car now, Tony keeps his back to Tim. He waits by the driver's side door, hand on the handle. His shoulders hitch slightly, shake and stop. If Tim didn't know better, he would think Tony is trying to keep himself from crying. Tim swallows the lump in his own throat.
"I'm not okay either, Tony…"
Tim says it so quietly that he, himself, barely hears it.