McGee entered the hospital once again, after having had a shower and changed into some fresh clothes. He was preoccupied with the state Tony had been in when he'd dropped him off earlier. He had been since then, actually. Just a feeling in his gut he wasn't sure how to place, and it had been eating away at him.

"Timothy," Ducky's voice pulled him from his thoughts and he looked over at the M.E who sat a few feet away in the waiting area. He made his way over and sat down beside him. The look on Ducky's face indicated no change. "Jackson and Abigail are sitting with him right now," he informed him. "Are you feeling all right?" he asked with concern.

"Yeah, Ducky. I'm fine." He furrowed a brow, confused as to why he'd asked.

"I was considering checking in on Tony," Ducky told him. "He caught a cab back to Jethro's house earlier."

"Actually, he caught me outside on his way out," McGee told him. "I gave him a ride there."

"Oh, good!" Ducky let out a relieved breath. "I was a bit worried he might not actually go."

"Where else would he go?" he queried, raising a brow.

"I'm not sure. He did seem rather distraught. I merely wanted to make sure he'd gotten back there safely. He didn't sleep at all last night."

"I'm surprised I did," Tim replied. "How about you? Did you get any sleep? I didn't notice if you'd gone home at all."

"I managed to doze unintentionally, while Jethro was in for the MRI," he told him.

"Has there been any change?" McGee asked. "Tony told me there was more damage than they originally thought; contusions..."

"No change," Ducky started, but then stopped and narrowed his eyes. "Tony told you this?"

"Yeah...in the car before I dropped him off. Why?"

"I hadn't spoken to him about Jethro's condition, and I expressly told the staff not to discuss it with anyone just yet... That I would be the one to tell you all, if it came to that point." His face slackened for a moment before meeting Tim's eyes again. "Did he, at any point very early this morning, leave the room?"

"I- I'm not sure, Ducky. I fell asleep at some point."

"Oh dear," Ducky said with a sigh. "No wonder he seemed so devastated."

"What's going on?" McGee grew increasingly concerned.

"Tony must have overheard the conversation the doctor had with me after the MRI," Ducky told him. "It included news that would be difficult to handle, if you'd heard it from that man... Including that I should make phone calls."

"Phone calls?"

"To friends and family," Ducky replied somberly. "To say their goodbyes."

"What?" Tim blinked rapidly at the news.

"Now, dear boy." Ducky laid a hand on his. "The news was the opinion of the doctor, not one who knows our Jethro Gibbs. He's a fighter and he's come through many things. Though I made those calls, I haven't let go of the belief that he will come through this."

"But Tony didn't have anyone's opinion butthat doctor's," Tim reminded him.

From beside them, a familiar voice sounded out of breath and a bit frightened. "Ducky." Ziva entered the waiting area. They both looked over at her, her hair slightly disheveled, and clothes looking as if she'd just returned from a morning run. Her eyes were red and shining and she seemed upset, as much as they could tell since the woman barely allowed anything of the sort to show. "I came as soon as I got your message. How is he? Where is he?"

Ducky and Tim had stood and made their way to her by then. Ducky put his hands on her arms. "It's all right, Ziva," he assured her. "I'm sorry if my voice mail frightened you. I'll take you to him, right away." Ziva simply nodded as she made an effort to compose herself.

"I'm gonna go..." McGee spoke up. "Gonna check in on Tony," he told Ducky. Ducky nodded to him before leading Ziva down the hall, and Ziva shot Tim a concerned glance before resigning to continue with Ducky.

11 00 11 00 11

Tony had stripped down to his boxers and tee shirt and curled up in the many blankets on his bed. He'd taken a few Zolpidem when he'd first gotten in, but they didn't seem to be working. All he wanted to do was sleep. Was that so much to ask?

He was freezing, though he couldn't figure out why. Alcohol was supposed to make you oblivious to the cold. That scared him a little; was it really that cold in the apartment?

He pushed up out of the bed, allowing the covers to fall to the floor, and made his way to the bathroom. He turned the hot water on in the tub, and then the cold just a bit. No need to burn himself. Then he made his way out to the kitchen as the tub filled. His mind wouldn't stop racing, and it was clear that these pills were quite possibly not even working.

Tony shivered as he opened the fridge. Milk...and not expired yet. Jackpot... He poured some into a glass and grabbed the bottle of pills as he headed back to the bathroom. One or two more wouldn't hurt, would it? He might sleep longer, if they put him to sleep at all.

The tub was half-full when he got back to the bathroom. He poured a few of the pills into his palm and tossed them into his mouth, then downed the milk. The cold temperature of the drink sent more shivers down his spine and he curled into himself. He couldn't wait any longer for the tub to fill, and he didn't want to end up drowning if the pills actually started to work and he passed out in there. So he turned off the water and, without even thinking to take off the clothes he currently had on, he climbed into the tub, knocking the open bottle of sleep aids to the floor.

He didn't care. He just wanted to be warm. He just wanted to sleep...

Tbc...