Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS.

Hey everyone! I'm getting super excited about the number of reads and reviews I'm getting … you guys are the best! I'm also really excited with where the story's going. I have some big plans so as long as there's interest, I'll keep it going (well, to be honest, I'd write it even if no one was reading it). I hope you enjoy!

Later that afternoon, Abby was beginning to go insane. Ziva had called late for the second time and Abby had laid into her rather ruthlessly. Needless to say, she was on time for call number three, although her news had been far from stellar. Gibbs was having a rough afternoon.

"Lunch time." Ziva announced as she entered Gibbs' room with a tray loaded with a bowl of soup, a glass of orange juice, and some crackers. Gibbs put down his crossword book gratefully. He was stuck on a particularly hard clue (a 5 letter Yiddish word for bedbug). Ziva set down the tray and Gibbs looked at the soup closely; it looked more promising than the tea and he bravely picked up the spoon and took a bite.

"This is good, Ziva." he said after swallowing.

"Thank you, Gibbs. Just like my mother used to make; it always made me feel better."

"Let's hope it doesn't make me feel better like the tea did."

Ziva blushed a little.

"I am sorry about that, Gibbs. I have certainly never reacted to it like that before."

"It's done. Don't worry about it." Gibbs took another bite of soup and Ziva smiled.

"Right. All water in the bridge, yes?"

"Uh, Ziva, it's water under the bridge." Tim corrected her. He had turned off his game and stood up.

"There is lunch for you downstairs, McGee." Ziva told him.

"Go." Gibbs said to her as McGee left. "Go, eat. I'm fine."

Ziva nodded.

"We will be downstairs if you need anything."

Gibbs wordlessly watched Ziva leave, thankful to be by himself for a few minutes at last. The soup truly was good and he ate as much of it as he could, but truth be told, he just wasn't hungry. Something felt very off in Gibbs. He put the tray on the floor, not touching the juice or crackers, and laid down, pulling the duvet over his head, and closed his eyes.

Downstairs, Ziva and Tim were eating sandwiches at Gibbs' kitchen table.

"Did you speak with Gibbs this morning?"

"About what?" Tim was peeking between the two pieces of bread. He wasn't entirely sure what concoction Ziva had put on the sandwich but it looked okay and smelled great so he took a bite.

"Just casually."

McGee shook his head and swallowed.

"No, we didn't. Gibbs is a man of very few words."

Ziva chuckled.

"That is very true."

The lapsed into silence until the end of lunch, when Ziva stood and said she was going to get Gibbs' dishes. The young agent walked up the stairs and knocked on the doorframe as she entered.

"How was - " Ziva stopped short. Her eyes took in Gibbs' lunch, barely touched, on the ground but more importantly, Gibbs himself. The duvet was still encasing his body, his head only visible by the silver hair peeking over the top but Ziva could see that the strong man was shivering violently.

"Gibbs!" Ziva exclaimed. She rushed over and pulled the duvet down. Gibbs appeared to asleep but it was clear he was in the throes of a fever. The few minutes that had passed had been long enough for his face to shine with sweat and he was very restless, his eyes squinted closed. Ziva laid a hand on the fevered brow and gasped. She found the thermometer on the bed-side table. Impatiently waiting, she pulled the device free when it beeped. Gibbs was oblivious to her presence as she looked at the screen. Ziva gasped at how high it was and went into the bathroom. Returning with a moist towel, she began blotting the sweat off of Gibb's face.

Tim was beginning to wonder where Ziva was. She had said she was only going to get his dishes … how long could that take? Concerned, he started up the stairs and stopped short in the doorway. He saw Ziva sitting on the edge of the bed next to a very sick looking Gibbs.

"What happened?" he exclaimed.

"His fever spiked to 104." Ziva didn't take her eyes off what she was doing.

"I'm going to call Ducky."

McGee took his phone off his belt and dialled the number.

"Ducky, it's McGee … yes, we're with him now … his fever spiked … 104 … Ziva's bathing his face right now … one second."

"Ziva, has he been hallucinating at all?"

"No."

Tim put the phone back to his ear.

"No, Ducky … okay … alright, thanks … bye."

He snapped the phone closed and looked at Ziva.

"He's on his way over."

Ducky let himself in to Jethro's house and entered the bedroom carrying his old leather bag.

"Hi, Ducky." Tim greeted. He was sitting in the armchair, Ziva still treating the fever.

"Hello, Timothy, Ziva. How is our patient?"

"Look for yourself." Ziva stood up and moved away, allowing Ducky to lean over his friend.

"Oh my, Jethro. You don't kid around, do you?"

Gibbs, of course, didn't respond and Ducky opened his medical bag. He took out his own thermometer only to have it give another high reading.

"Have you given him any medication?"

"No."

"Ziva, would you be so kind as to get me a glass of water. I'd like to try and get some pills into him, if possible."

Ziva nodded and returned with a glass. Ducky shook Gibbs' shoulder.

"Jethro, it is time to wake up. Jethro."

Gibbs lazily opened his eyes.

"What is it, Duck?"

"You need to take some medicine."

Gibbs' eyes slid closed again.

"Not now, Duck."

"Yes, now, Jethro. Can you sit up?"

Gibbs groaned and opened his eyes again. Ducky slid his hand behind Gibbs and helped him into a semi-sitting position. Gibbs swallowed the pills with little difficulty and fell back down, already lost in his dreams.

"Would you mind moistening that again?" he asked Ziva, who returned momentarily with a cold, damp, towel. Ducky placed it firmly on Jethro's brow.

"I'm afraid all we can do now is wait." Ducky said. "Tell me, has he been drinking fluids?"

"I am afraid not." Ziva said and proceeded to tell the doctor about the tea, which Ducky couldn't help but smile at.

"I have been trying for years to get Jethro to drink tea. I am not at all surprised at your outcome. Now, let's go downstairs and let Jethro have some peace and quiet."

Ducky ushered Ziva and McGee out of the room and followed them down the stairs.

"I will stay here for awhile, just until Jethro wakes up. In the meantime, I would like a cup of tea."

Abby took the stairs instead of the elevator – it may not be faster but it made her feel like she was getting there faster.

"Tony!" she exclaimed, seeing Tony face down on his desk. Tony didn't stir so Abby slapped him on the back of the head, hard.

"Hey!" Tony said, lifting his head and squinting in the sky light. "What was that for?"

"You were asleep."

"Yeah, in case you forgot, we were up most of the night."

Abby rolled her eyes.

"We were not. Stop being so dramatic. Ziva just called me."

Abby told Tony what had happened.

"Ducky's still there. I guess there's no point in asking if you've finished your work so can we go?"

"Yeah, sure."

Tony stood up slowly, stiff from sleeping in his chair. Abby eyes him.

"Are you okay, Tony?"

"Just a little tired, Abbs."

"Your face is awfully red."

"Yeah … I was sleeping."

"Then you shouldn't be tired."

Abby reached up and attempted to lay her hand on Tony's forehead but Tony slapped it out of the way.

"That doesn't work on me. Now let's move it."

Some of you can probably guess where I'm heading with this … oh well, so I'm a tad predictable. C'est la vie. Look for another chapter soon … I wasn't sure where to end this one and start the next one so they'll be posted relatively close because as soon as this is posted, it's off to work on the next one for me! Review?

PS – any M*A*S*H fans know the 5-letter Yiddish word for bedbug?