Jimmy managed to get Gibbs to Tony's room with ease. Apparently, his innocent face and smile seemed to work the staff. When wheeling him up to Tony's bedside, Palmer couldn't help the sinking feeling upon seeing the senior field agent for the first time since he'd been there.

Before he could dwell too much on the feeling, Gibbs' voice broke through. "Go keep watch for me, Jimmy," he told him in a soft voice.

Jimmy nodded nervously and turned on his heel, chancing another glance at Tony before exiting and closing the door behind him.

Gibbs' heart sank in his chest upon seeing Tony. He was surprised he was able to instruct the M.E's young assistant to go guard the door. Tony was on a ventilator. For some reason, Gibbs hadn't been expecting that. But it made sense. With the man's already compromised lungs, the drugs that were in his system probably had little trouble getting them to nearly shut down.

Though he oftentimes demanded it, Gibbs was always a bit wary of Tony's silence. It was usually a red flag that something was up, and sometimes an indication that something was horribly wrong. Right now, Gibbs knew exactly what caused his agent's silence. But why, was another question.

The dark circles under Tony's eyes accentuated by their current sunken state made him seem all the more ill, though it was most likely a combination of the drugs and alcohol and his lack of sleep. The lead agent couldn't help but to run the possibility through his head that his two investigating agents were just running on wishful thinking.

The fact was, Tony could very well have done this purposefully. And that scared Gibbs more than he was willing to accept or admit; more than he'd been afraid of anything in a very long time...

Gibbs locked the wheels on his chair and cautiously pulled himself up to stand, appraising his agent; watching and listening to the mechanical rise and fall of Tony's chest. The younger man looked resigned to his current state. Accepting, even. It was unacceptable.

Gibbs put a gentle hand on Tony's forehead and found himself clinging to Tony's hand with his other, and he tried his damnedest to hold himself together. He bent down to Tony's ear and spoke. "Tony...you listen to me," he began, loud enough for the younger agent to hear, but not so loud that anyone outside could. "I know you need the rest, but once you've got it, I need you to wake up. I need you out here. Need you to do what you do best. And that's holding this team together," his voice cracked. "And having my six. Just like your team has yours right now."

His hand began absentmindedly petting through Tony's hair at the top of his head as he continued to speak. "I don't know what happened. Either way, I owe you a head-slap of the century... As long as I can give it." He sniffed as silently as he could manage. "And I do not give you permission to leave... You hear me?" He saw the slightest twitch of Tony's brow and his heart sped up a beat. "I love ya, kid," he let out with a short breath that caught, then pressed a kiss to the younger man's forehead, letting it linger there for as long as he needed to recompose himself.

"Agent Gibbs?" came Jimmy's whispered, but urgent voice from the door. "We have to go. There are nurses heading this way..."

11 00 11 00 11

"There are no other bottles of medication in the house," Ziva reported to McGee, who was still kneeling on the bathroom floor. "Aside from some over-the-counter pain relief. And they all seem fairly untouched."

"I think I've found all the pills I'm gonna find," Tim told her. "There were twenty-two; most of them dissolved by the water from the tub from when I pulled him out. But they were intact enough to count. This bottle is for thirty, and it's dated from three months ago." He looked back at her. "So it looks like he might have tried them on a few occasions... or..."

"Or he took eight this morning," she finished for him

"It's possible, but even Tony knows that's not a lethal dose...I'm sure," he said as he pushed himself up to stand.

"Mixed with the bottle of bourbon?" She raised a brow.

"Even then," he defended. "If he'd wanted to die, he would've taken this whole bottle."

"Perhaps they spilled before he had the chance," Ziva retorted.

"Or he knocked them over because he was drowsy...and drunk!" he argued. "Why are you doing this?" he questioned her motives.

"I am simply providing you with the questions we will be asked," she told him. "We are his friends, and we are investigating this as such. Our evidence cannot be hearsay or opinion. We need proof and plausibility."

"There isn't any proof until he wakes up and tells us," he shot back. Then he swallowed nervously, and looked away to the counter top. "If he wakes up." He sank down on the closed lid of the toilet with an exasperated sigh, and stared into the bathtub across from it. "I thought he was dead," he said in barely a whisper, his eyes not moving from that spot in the tub.

Ziva's brow furrowed as she moved to sit on the edge of the tub across from him, "What?"

"When I found him," he told her. "When I pulled him out of the water... I thought he was dead. I thought I was too late, and I couldn't even bring myself to check for a pulse." Ziva put a supportive hand on his knee, and he met her eyes. "You don't...think...with everything that's happened-"

"No," she interjected. "I do not believe he was trying to end his life. He would not give up on Gibbs like that. He would not give up on us."

McGee absorbed her words, and they comforted him possibly more than she had even meant for them to. He took a cleansing breath and returned the small smile she was now giving him...

Tbc...