Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS.
Hello, everyone! After a long six weeks (which, really, there is no such thing) I am back. It's taken a few days for me to regain some motivation but here is the next chapter for you reading pleasure =) Thank you so much for your dedication and patience … you guys are the bestest.
Tony and Gibbs both slept through the night, much to Ducky's relief. He was beginning to worry about Tony; his constant throwing up, lack of sleep, and unending fever. The medicine, Ducky hoped, would be enough to be the turning point for the agent.
Their sleeping through the night was also much appreciated by Abby. She had been up the night before with Tony and she knew that if Tony or Gibbs were awake, she wouldn't be sleeping.
The storm outside raged on and on – winds were howling and rain was pouring. Inside, everyone was sleeping – McGee and Jimmy were now sharing the pull-out bed. The power had gone out hours ago and by the time morning rolled around, the house was freezing.
McGee was the first one to wake the next morning, shivering. He didn't remember where he was at first but the sight of Jimmy Palmer next to him reminded him. Tim quietly got out of bed and knelt by the fire, blowing gently on the embers. Soon a flame was eating at a fresh log and he blew into his hands, trying to unthaw them.
"That's not bad, McGee."
Tim turned around, startled. Gibbs stood in the doorway, a smirk on his face. McGee stood up.
"Boss, what are you doing up?"
"It's six in the morning, McGee. What do you think?"
"The power's out, Boss. You can't make coffee."
Gibbs' answer was to walk past him and into the kitchen. McGee followed him, noting Gibbs made no attempts at being quiet as he got out a glass.
"How are you feeling, Boss?" McGee stammered.
"Good as new." Gibbs was peering into the dark fridge.
McGee didn't have the heart to tell his superior that while he may feel better, he certainly didn't look better. He still had the marks, of course, which were beginning to scab over and there were bags under his eyes, complimenting a still-pale complexion. Gibbs pulled out a container of milk and sniffed it. Deciding it was drinkable, he poured it into the glass. McGee didn't know what to do; he knew that Gibbs ought to be in bed, even if he felt better, but he avoided confrontation at all costs. He wished desperately that someone would come to his rescue.
He was still watching Gibbs drink his milk when he heard footsteps behind him and he sighed a sigh of relief. He turned around, hoping that Ducky, Abby, or Ziva would order Gibbs back upstairs. McGee was disappointed to see Jimmy standing there.
"Agent Gibbs, what are you doing?"
"What does it look like I'm doing?"
"I can see that you're drinking milk but I meant what are you doing out of bed? Dr. Mallard told me about your case and you should be resting."
Gibbs raised an eyebrow at Palmer.
"I should be out doing my job."
"Everything is closed down, Boss. The storm." McGee tilted his head towards the back door, where he could see the rain through the glass panels. Jimmy stepped forward, studying Gibbs.
"You look tired, Agent Gibbs."
Jimmy, to McGee's horror, raised a hand and laid it on Gibbs' cheek, removing it before Gibbs had time to slap him.
"And you're still warm. You need to be in bed."
"I've been in bed for the last three days, Palmer. I need to get up, move around."
"How do you expect your body to get better if you push yourself over the edge every time you start to feel better?"
"I'm a Marine. We were built to push ourselves."
"In a warzone, maybe, but not when you're ill. Please, Agent Gibbs, just go back to bed."
"What is going on in here?" Ducky asked from behind McGee. His eyes darted from Jethro to Palmer, and back to Jethro. Gibbs was wearing a strange smile and still eyeing Palmer.
"Are you alright, Jethro?"
"I'm fine, Duck. I'm just heading back up to bed."
Gibbs put his cup in the sink and pushed by McGee and Ducky. McGee watched him go up the stairs and then turned to Palmer, awestruck. Jimmy's eyes were huge and he looked about ready to pass out.
"He listened to me."
Ducky smiled.
"Well done, Mr. Palmer. Or should I say Dr. Palmer?"
Jimmy smiled, still in a daze.
"I am going to check on Tony." Ducky announced. Upstairs, Tony was still sleeping, although his sleep was restless. The lines creasing away from Tony's eyes told the doctor he was in quite a bit of pain. Ducky wasn't surprised – his body had been through, to quote Palmer, a war zone and it was going to take its toll physically. After watching Tony toss and turn for a few moments, Ducky decided it was best not to wake him from the first good sleep he'd had in the last couple of days. Instead, he found an extra blanket in the bottom drawer of the dresser and draped it over Tony's body. Pulling the door closed behind him, Ducky went to Gibbs' room. He leaned on the door jam, watching Gibbs read a book on woodworking.
"You can come in." Gibbs' eyes never left the page. Ducky smiled and entered the semi-dark room.
"I'm surprised at you, Jethro."
"Why?" Gibbs put down his magazine, peering at Ducky over his glasses, a smile playing on his lips.
"Since when does Dr. Palmer have the authority to order you back to bed?
"Duck, believe it or not, I gained a bit of respect for Jimmy."
"How so?"
"He didn't let me intimidate him. He, as a doctor, thought it was in my best interest to be in bed and he didn't let me do otherwise. It takes guts."
Ducky smiled.
"Very true. You are a fair man, Jethro."
"It's not fairness, Duck. It's about confidence and respect."
"Either way, I'm impressed. Do you need anything before I go downstairs? Are you warm enough?"
"I'm fine, Duck. Go."
Gibbs motioned him out of the room before picking up his book again, a small smile still on his lips.
All was quiet in the house for the next couple of hours. Ziva got up and joined Ducky, Jimmy, and McGee in the cold kitchen where they engaged in a game of cribbage. Abby, exhausted, slept snuggled deep down under the covers. Outside, Tropical Storm Leroy raged.
Ziva had just scored in a perfect hand when Tony shuffled into the kitchen.
"Oh my, Anthony." Ducky said upon seeing the agent. Jimmy and McGee merely stared but it was Ziva who jumped up and led him to sit in her chair.
"Tony, you look horrible."
"I feel horrible."
Every visible part of Tony's body was covered in very painful looking blisters. It was clear that he had been scratching at them in his sleep. Despite his restful night, there were still bags under his glassy eyes and his face was flushed.
As Ducky got up and rounded the table, Ziva laid a hand on Tony's forehead. She was surprised when he didn't push away.
"He still has a fever."
Ducky nodded and lifted one of Tony's arms up so he could take a closer look.
"Do they itch?" Ducky asked. Tony nodded wordlessly.
"Hmm. I would like you to take an oatmeal bath, Anthony."
"Oatmeal?"
"It does sound strange, doesn't it?" Ducky answered. "But trust me. It will take away the itch and soothe the swollen vesicles. After you bathe, we'll lather you up in calamine lotion."
"Um, Dr. Mallard?" Jimmy spoke up. "We have no power. Do we know if the water heater is electric or gas powered?"
"It's electric." Gibbs' voice came from the doorway. Everyone was too preoccupied with Tony to protest his presence this time. "I keep meaning to have it replaced with one that ties into the natural gas line."
"Which means a cold bath for me." Tony said with a very tired sounding voice.
"We can heat up water for a bath." Gibbs said. "The stove is gas powered."
"A warm bath as opposed to a hot bath will help lower his fever." Ducky said. "I'll go run some cold water and get the oatmeal ready. Coming, Anthony?"
Tony merely got up and followed the doctor out of the kitchen. Ziva went to the stove, taking a match with her, and lit a burner. Gibbs had found a big pot and filled it with water to boil. Once he did, he caught Palmer watching him.
"It's alright, Palmer. I was just getting a drink." Gibbs chuckled as he filled a glass with water before retreating upstairs.
"What was that about?" Ziva asked, standing over the pot.
"Jimmy ordered Gibbs back to bed this morning."
"And he listened?" Ziva's voice held a sense of unbelief. Jimmy, eyes wide again, merely nodded and Ziva smiled.
"Good for you, Jimmy."
"Thanks."
Silence filled the kitchen as Ziva continued to watch the water on the stove.
"A watched pot doesn't boil, Ziva." McGee said a few moments later.
"What was that, McGee?" Ziva's voice bounced off the sides of the pot as she peered in.
"The water … it won't boil any faster if you watch it."
"What else am I supposed to do?"
No one answered her and she went back to watching the water. After what felt like an eternity, Ziva put on oven mitts and carried the boiling pot upstairs, emptying it into the bathtub. She repeated the process three more times before Ducky decided it was the perfect temperature. They retreated downstairs to let Tony soak in cereal in peace.
Well, was it worth the wait? I made it extra-long to make up for the long wait. Thank you again for your patience and a review is always appreciated! Next one coming soon =)