Part 12

He blinked his eyes open to a tilted world full of legs and feet. Tony lifted his head and realized he was on the floor. He pushed up and stood, but swayed and braced himself against the table when the room whirled.

"Easy, Tony. Sit down."

He ignored the suggestion but didn't shrug off the supporting hand pressed against his back. "How is he?" His brain finally caught up with his mouth. "And why was I on the floor?"

Vernon patted him and stepped back. "You passed out and were too heavy for us to carry to the couch. We made you as comfortable as possible and let you rest. You needed it."

A quick glance at the floor revealed a makeshift pillow where he'd been laying. His gaze quickly shifted back to McGee. "And Tim?"

A heavy sighed escaped Vernon. "He's still unconscious. Let's hope he stays that way, because once he wakes up, he's going to be in a lot of pain."

Mansfield joined them, drying his hands with a dishtowel decorated with daisies. "I repaired a laceration in his spleen with Dr. Stanley's assistance. There was some bleeding, but it wasn't severe. He's badly bruised, though, and his lower ribs are fractured. That's why he was in so much pain."

Tony pushed the heel of his hand against his forehead. His eyes felt full of sand and grit. "How long was I out?"

"Only a few minutes. Dr. Mansfield and I will keep an eye on McGee; why don't you go rest on the couch for a bit?" Dr. Mansfield. Dr. Stanley. That was the first time he'd heard them give each other their proper titles. Tony suspected opinions had shifted in the past hour, perhaps as a result of watching each other work in such close proximity.

"Maybe in a minute." When both men started to walk away, Tony called out to them. "Hey." He waited until they looked at him. "Thanks." They both smiled. Mansfield nodded at him, then he and Vernon returned to the task of cleaning up. Tony turned back to Tim. A thick wrapping of gauze and tape hid the surgery site from view. He closed his eyes for a moment and leaned hard against the table, remembering images of McGee's blood spilling out and wetting the white sheets spread across the table. Shaking those thoughts from his head, Tony reached for a chair and pulled it close. He sat, folded his arms on the table, and propped his chin on his arms. Weariness drained him, leaving him hollow and numb. His eyes slowly closed, and he slept.

It seemed no time passed at all, and he opened his eyes. Inky darkness blinded him, no matter how wide he held his eyes open. Silence pressed against his ears and he realized he no longer heard the generator, or rain. He sat up. As his vision adjusted, he saw the outline of a figure near the sink. "Vernon?"

"Tony." Vernon's voice whispered, shivering with fear. "The generator didn't run out of gas - someone turned it off." From the distance a muffled crash sounded somewhere out near the barn. "Michaels and his men are here."