McGee pulled up to Gibbs' house and hurried up to the front door. If Tony had gotten to sleep, he didn't want to wake him. So, he let himself in quietly.

Once silently closing the door, he made his way to the living room, checking the couch first. There was evidence he'd beenthere. It looked like he'd spend some time wrapping presents. And drinking, he noted. A bottle of bourbon with just a quarter of the bottle left, and two glasses; one with just a swallow left in it, and the other dry.

Tim dismissed this for the moment and started through the house. The bathroom door on the ground floor was open, as was the guest room. Lights were out in the kitchen. He headed upstairs. All the rooms up there were empty as well.

He hurried down the stairs and toward the basement door. "Tony?" he called out before flipping the switch for the light. "Tony, where are you? C'mon, this isn't funny..."

But he wasn't there. He wasn't in the house, nor out back. McGee began to panic. Tony had clearly been drinking, and there was no sign of him. He pulled out his phone and dialed his number. There was no answer. His heart sped up.

He dialed the one person he knew was at NCIS right now...

11 00 11 00 11

Director Leon Vance sat sullenly at his desk. He'd spent Christmas morning with his family, but had to come into the office for a few hours, like he did every year if he wasn't already prone to his desk because of a case going on, to catch up on the week's paperwork that he always got behind on because of the holiday.

Today, however, his mind wandered incessantly from the pile of papers in front of him. Ducky had called that morning as his youngest was opening a gift excitedly under the tree. He was given the heads up that his lead agent in the MCRT was in the hospital. That the doctor's prognosis had been grim; that he needed to make calls, allowing friends and family the opportunity to say their goodbyes in the case that the doctors were right.

He liked Jethro. Though the man had, at times, been a pain in the ass, he knew how to get a job done. And he'd helped Leon out on several occasions; times Leon could never forget. Yes...Gibbs was more of a friend than he wanted to admit. And here he was, stuck at his desk when he should be over there paying his respects.

"Hell with this," he muttered and stood from his desk, grabbing his coat and phone before heading out of his office. His cell rang in his hand, then. Hoping it wasn't an agent calling about a case, he answered, "Vance."

"Sir, I hate to bother you, but I need a favor," the familiar voice sounded on the other end.

"McGee?" he was confused for a moment, but realized that he was most likely at the hospital. "What is it?"

"I need someone to go to my computer...uh... I need a trace done."

"I was about to head out to Bethesda, Tim."

"Please, sir. It's important. I mean...it could be very important...and it shouldn't take long."

"What's goin' on?" he asked as he headed down the stairs and into the bullpen.

"I dropped DiNozzo at Gibbs' house to sleep. He'd been at the hospital all day and night. I just came to check in on him and he's gone. His car is at NCIS, and everyone else is at Bethesda."

"You sure he didn't just catch a cab back there?"

"Sir, I literally just dropped him off here not even an hour ago. I tried calling him, but there's no answer. He's taking the accident really hard, and I'm worried..."

"All right, McGee," Vance had begun the trace while he'd been talking, anyway. "Looks like his last call was to a cab company. Give me a second and I can figure out where they took him," he said as his fingers flew over the keyboard. "I'll send the address to your phone," he told him after a moment.

"Thank you so much, sir. I appreciate it."

"How's he look, Tim?"

"Sir?"

"Gibbs."

"Oh... Not good,"his voice lowered. "He's on a ventilator...I'm not sure of the details, but he's..."his voice drifted off, and Vance seemed to understand how difficult it must be.

"All right, McGee. Go check on your teammate. Keep me posted."

11 00 11 00 11

McGee was racing toward Tony's apartment, now, trying for the tenth time to call his phone. Every ring that wasn't answered caused his worry to shoot up a notch. It seemed to take forever to get there. But when he finally did, he threw the car into park and bolted up the staircase without bothering to wait for the elevator.

On his way up, he fished out the keys he'd grabbed from the table in Gibbs' foyer that held a spare to Tony's apartment. He let himself in without even bothering to knock. "Tony?" he called out as he entered, glancing briefly to the couch before entering the bedroom. "Tony, are you here?" The bed had been used since he was last here, he could tell.

The light coming from the bathroom drew him toward it. "Tony?" He knocked before pushing the door open. The first thing he saw was the bottle of pills spilled out on the floor. His heart jumped to his throat as he threw the door the rest of the way open. "Tony!" he shouted as he rushed to the tub where his friend lay limp; unmoving.

He pulled Tony from the tub and into his lap once he fell on his backside to the floor. "Tony, no!" he sobbed as he held his seemingly lifeless friend to his chest. He didn't dare check for a pulse; couldn't bear it yet. "Please..." he tapped Tony's face, "Wake up...wake up, Tony...please..."

Tbc...