Ducky looked on in astonishment as the young man he'd met only the day before stepped in front of Gibbs, as though to protect him.

He could not recall a time when anyone had ever stepped between Gibbs and a perceived threat.

Truly astounding.

And that he of all people should be perceived as a threat to Jethro… His chest puffed out a little.

Ducky stepped forward to explain, but that action was also mistaken as aggressive by the now stony-faced DiNozzo, who was clearly uncertain what was going on as he stepped back to better cover Gibbs rather than forward to confront the doctor.

Unfortunately, as the young man stepped back, he was forced to put some weight on his injured limb, and though he kept his footing the obvious pain it caused elicited yet another step forward out of Ducky, who instinctively reached forward to try to stabilize the detective.

What may have then become a very ugly situation was saved by an even more miraculous occurrence. Gibbs, having seemingly regained his balance and composure, stepped forward and rested a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder. "Hey. Bonehead. It's okay." Gibbs' tone was quiet and in no way condemning. In fact, he sounded a trifle ashamed of himself for some indiscernible reason, and perhaps a bit proud of the young man.

This was fascinating. Truly worth the awful drive it took to get here.

Gibbs gestured for Ducky to move back a bit, and he did so, leaning over to pick up the fallen crutches and extend them to the detective as a peace offering.

Tony looked back at Gibbs, and whatever he saw in Jethro's face must have reassured him, for he accepted the offering with a sheepish, nearly bashful expression that was most charming. "Thanks, Doc. Guess I dropped those."

"You had best not be dropping them again tonight, not with the damage you've incurred."

Gibbs stepped forward, now side-by-side with DiNozzo. "What damage?"

Tony waved his hand dismissively. "Nothing, it's fine."

Gibbs slapped the boy upside the back of his head. "Duck?"

"I can't say with any certainty the extent of the damage, but the doctor I spoke with at the emergency room said it was a least a torn meniscus. Really, Jethro, I understand they were insanely busy with the numerous victims of that automobile accident. But to virtually ignore you, with a head trauma, is inexcusable. If young Anthony here hadn't browbeat them into seeing you, you might still be sleeping on those uncomfortable waiting room chairs, smelling antiseptic and feeling your headache grow worse and worse under those horrible florescent lights. Though I do quite like the smell of antiseptic. It reminds me of –"

Gibbs cut him off. "I don't remember that."

"Hardly a surprise given a severe concussion."

"Why don't you know how bad Tony's knee is?"

Tony finally interjected, "Hey, how about why does he know anything about my knee at all?"

They both ignored the detective. "Because he left before they could complete any of the necessary tests to learn more, Jethro."

Both older men turned to glare at DiNozzo, who glared right back. "What business is that of yours?"

Gibbs leaned in and growled, "I'm making it my business."

Ducky nodded. "And really, as you told the hospital you had no personal physician, I felt I should act on your behalf in that capacity in case they hadn't shared something with you that may later prove important."

"You're a medical examiner!"

"Ah, yes…very astute."

"I mean, you're not a personal physician, you're a medical examiner!"

"Seeing as I was already acting on behalf of Jethro as his doctor on record, they didn't seem to find it difficult to believe that I may be acting on yours as well. Though I can see your point; it's a dreadfully run place. They shouldn't be giving out patient information to just anyone who asks."

Tony stared back, a muscle in his jaw twitching.

"Why did you leave?" Ducky queried.

"Didn't need any tests; I've had every knee injury in the book. I can take care of it myself, it's not that bad."

Eyebrow raised at the defiant young man before him, Ducky saw Gibbs' expression go blank again, as if he were lost in a memory.

"Might've been partly my fault," Gibbs said gruffly. "Don't think I was behaving very well."

Ducky chuckled; had he ever heard Gibbs admit such a thing before? Unlikely. "Yes, they informed me about that. It did sound as if you may have been restrained for the rest of your stay if not for your young man here."

Gibbs and DiNozzo traded a quick, unreadable look, then both glanced away, eyes firmly on the ceiling.

Ducky found himself unable to reach his previous levels of anger, but still chastised the two before him. "You could've called, you know. It was quite worrisome not being able to reach you after the hospital called to say you'd been injured, then later told that you'd disappeared."

Tony interjected, "His phone was smashed in the accident, and I wasn't aware they'd call you."

"Mhmm. And I suppose, Jethro, you've been awake for only two minutes and have not yet had a chance to contact me?" Ducky leaned around the men, shooting a significant glance at the case files strewn about the table.

Gibbs scowled, scratched at the back of his head, looked around for a better excuse, then finally, grudgingly, said, "We'll remember next time."

Restraining the laugh that wanted to come forward at the surly Marine's use of "we," Ducky stepped forward towards his main charge, now unimpeded. Jethro jerked away, and Tony went to the kitchen, presumably to hide. "Can I get you something to drink, Doc?"

"Hot tea would be lovely, if you have it."

"Sure." Tony set about making it, sounding relieved to remove himself from the conversation for a while.

Gibbs led the doctor further from the kitchen, towards the seating area. "What else did you find out about his injuries from the hospital?"

"Shouldn't you like to know more about your own condition, Jethro?"

"Concussion. Better now. End of story."

"Yes, well, I suppose by your definition, it is. I imagine Anthony feels rather the same way."

"Ducky…" Gibbs' voice warned.

"I really don't know, Jethro. It took so long for him to force them to see you, and once he was satisfied you had nothing more than a concussion, it seems like he removed you as quickly as possible. He's had none of the scans or x-rays needed to determine the extent of any injury. Has he others, besides the knee that you know of?"

Shrugging, Gibbs admitted, "I don't know. Don't remember last night very well. But his knee and ribs were already bothering him from the night before. And he pulled me up over a bridge last night."

"Over – excuse me? I was under the impression your injuries were caused from the accident."

"Nah, that was just a lovetap from a sedan."

"And you ended up over a bridge how, exactly?" The doctor worked to keep his voice from raising several octaves.

"Long story. Later, okay?"

Reluctant, but more at ease now that he saw his friend relatively unscathed in front of him, Ducky assented. "Have you any clue what injuries your detective alluded to that lead him to be so familiar with lower limb trauma?"

"Nope. But I asked Abby to look into his background, maybe she'll find something." Gibbs' head snapped up and he searched Ducky's face. "Shit, you didn't talk to her about the accident, did you?"

"I'm rather afraid I did."

"Dammit, Ducky!"

"I needed to find out if she had spoken with you, since I couldn't get through."

Gibbs closed his eyes for a moment. Then he reached out a hand, palm up. Ducky placed his phone there and rose to visit Anthony in the kitchen while Gibbs called a very anxious young lady.

As he entered the young man's kitchen, Tony repeated his earlier, sheepish smile. "Just waiting for the water to heat up."

Gibbs may be the best investigator and canniest interrogator NCIS had, but sometimes his methods left a lot to be desired when it came to matters of personal communication. "I am curious how you came about those lower body injuries you mentioned before, if you don't mind my asking."

Ducky had been afraid the boy might tense up at such a personal question – he really had no handle on the detective at all yet – but in fact Anthony relaxed, apparently comfortable with this topic.

"I was a Phys Ed major in college. Played everything I could. Spent a lot of time with basketball and football, ran long distance."

Ducky relaxed as well. "Ah, that explains it. I imagine your studies increased your knowledge as well. You must have studied anatomy to some extent."

Tony nodded, opening a jar of peanut butter and beginning to eat small spoonfuls of the stuff straight out of the jar as he leaned against the counter. "Sure did."

"Anthony," Ducky said gently, "no matter how much information and experience you have with such matters, you still could not be certain about the level of damage an injury like that has caused without scans."

Tony smiled, but there was more warning to the expression than welcome. "I can take care of myself. Don't worry about me."

Ducky was beginning to fear that if this lamb was brought into the fold, he'd be even harder to corral than the mighty ram himself.

DiNozzo turned and removed another spoon from a nearby drawer, then extended it and the jar of peanut butter towards the other man. "Want some?"

Though he wished to pursue the matter of the young man's injuries, Ducky suspected increased pushing on his part would only meet with increased deflection. Hoping the offering of a utensil was more tentative welcome than mere misdirection, Ducky did not hesitate to accept.

Little did he know that significant snowstorms would forevermore remind him of eating creamy peanut butter off of a scarred spoon and sipping rather bad jasmine tea in the tiny kitchen of a particularly intriguing Baltimore homicide detective.