Gibbs strode into the hospital two hours later, trailed by an excitedly-gesturing Abby. She had insisted that he couldn't leave NCIS without her and that her lab machinery could run the tests that needed to be done in her absence, and finally he had thrown up his hands and let her climb into the passenger seat of his car. He didn't think she'd stopped talking since, despite his only replies being distracted nods.

". . . so I mean, I just want you to understand that, Gibbs," Abby went on, scrambling to catch up with him as he headed for the surgical waiting room the receptionist had told him he'd find Ziva's other visitors in. "I don't want you to think I was mad at you, because I wasn't. Well, I mean, I kind of was, but that was just . . . a thing. Like, you said you were leaving, so what else was I going to think, right?" She didn't wait for him to answer, just double-timed two steps to his next one to close some of the distance between them. "But I know - I know - you wouldn't just leave Ziva here without a good reason, and I know that you and McGee are better than Metro anyway, so I mean of course you'd want to take over the scene, but still, I don't understand why you couldn't have waited to make us all go to work until after we know if Ziva's going to be ok, and -"

"Abby." He stopped outside the waiting room and turned to face her. Startled, Abby had to pull up short to keep from walking into him. "If you don't take a breath soon, you're gonna put yourself in one of those hospital beds next to Ziva."

Surprised, Abby shut her mouth. She gave him a thoughtful look, then nodded. "Ok. But I mean, you understand, right?"

"I understand, Abs. Now, you ready?"

She took a deep breath and let it out. "Yeah." She took his arm nervously, and together they walked into the room.

Noticing their entrance out of the corner of his eye, Ducky raised his chin off his chest and looked up. "Well, hello," he began, standing up and wincing as his back muscles protested the need to unfold himself from the bench. "I'm glad you've finally made it. Isn't that right, Timothy?" he asked, raising his voice on the question.

McGee, who had been slumped against the wall with his eyes closed, started violently and opened his eyes, then sat up straight when he caught sight of the newcomers. "Uh, hi, Boss, Abby. I was just, uh, resting my -"

Gibbs ignored his explanation and turned back to Ducky. "What's her status?"

Ducky smiled like a proud father. "She made it through surgery with no apparent complications. They've taken her to recovery while the anesth-"

"Who's with her?" Gibbs interrupted suddenly, looking from Ducky to McGee. "If you're both out here, who's guarding Ziva?"

"Um, Tony is, Boss," McGee replied, running a nervous hand over his hair and trying to blink the sleep from his eyes. "They would only let one person into the recovery room with her."

"I told you to spell Tony, McGee, not just join the crowd. Why the hell didn't you send him out of here?"

"I tried, Boss, believe me." He looked to Ducky, who nodded a verification of his statement. "He wouldn't go. Said he'd taken her this far, and he was damn well going to stay with her 'til we know. He was kind of strung out."

" 'Kind of'?" Ducky asked with a snort. "No need to qualify that statement, Timothy."

"Ok," McGee agreed, "he was strung out. Period."

Gibbs sighed and shook his head. "He still wearing those bloody clothes?"

McGee blinked. "What?"

"C'mere. Come here," Gibbs added more forcefully, waving an arm at him when McGee didn't stand up quickly enough for his taste. "This," he said, taking a keyring from his pocket and working a small key off of it, "is the key to Tony's locker. Go back to headquarters, grab whatever change of clothes he has in there, bring it back here. He was a mess when he got into the ambulance with her. He's gonna want to clean up once she's stable, and I forgot to bring something for him to change into."

McGee automatically took what Gibbs held out, then looked down at it and tried to hand it back to him. "Oh, no, he's good. They made him change into scrubs while, uh . . ." He looked at Ducky, who could provide a better explanation.

"Ziva had a bit of an . . . episode," Ducky picked up, "while in the Emergency Room. She had a seizure, from Tony's description. I believe he took it rather hard; the staff seems to have distracted him by telling him he needed to change out of his bloody clothes. They put him into a set of scrubs."

"Ah." Gibbs nodded and pocketed the locker key McGee gave back to him. "Good. Ziva's going to need clothes too, but we can worry about that later. When can we talk to her?" he asked, turning back to Ducky.

The doctor shook his head. "It depends on how quickly the anesthetic wears off, and how stable the doctors evaluate her to be when she wakes up." He started to add something else, then thought better of it and shook his head.

"What?" Gibbs prompted. "Spit it out, Duck."

He sighed. "It will also depend," he allowed reluctantly, "on her neurological state when she wakes up."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that at the moment, neither you nor I know how much damage was done to her brain by the bleeding and pressure." Ducky crossed his arms. "I'm afraid there's no way to know that until she wakes up."

A/N: I'm having annoying real life issues (hard drive failure! work deadlines! such excitement!) and I don't have as much time to write lately, but I know I'm already way behind on updating this story, so here's a short-ish chapter to keep your appetites whetted.