He heard voices, and then he heard the sound of someone crying, and then nothing for what seemed like a long time. And then voices again. And sirens: in the distance - up close. Someone calling his name. And Gibbs opened his eyes. His heart was pounding painfully in his chest, each breath labored and shallow, and he knew where he was and what had happened.

"Tony..." he groaned, instinctively trying to move toward the passenger side of the car. He tried to focus his eyes.

"Agent Gibbs." A deeper voice than Tony's from somewhere to his left, outside the car. "Stay calm. We've got Tony. He's all right. And you're going to be all right. It's just going to take a little longer to get you out."

Gibbs tried to move, then felt a hand on his shoulder. "Agent Gibbs, we need you to stay still." The voice again.

Gibbs cut his eyes to his left, but all he could make out were indistinct shapes moving outside the car, flashing lights through the shattered windshield. He felt something warm on his forehead and realized that it must be blood. He closed his eyes.

"Agent Gibbs." The hand moved, firm pressure on his forehead. "Stay with me. My name is Ryan. I'm an EMT. We'll have you out of here in just a few minutes."

Heavy eyes blinked open again. "Tony?"

"He's fine." Ryan's voice remained steady and reassuring. "He's already on his way to the hospital. Just a few bumps and bruises to go along with that broken arm."

Despite the pain shooting up his legs and lower back, and the blood now dripping closer to his eyes, Gibbs managed a smile. Tony and that damned cast. The fluorescent glow alone must have been a beacon in the night for the rescue team.

Something damp touched his forehead, gauze dabbing at the blood, halting its flow to his eyes.

"Just hold on," the EMT said firmly. "Stay with me."

And Gibbs wanted to – tried to keep his eyes open – but he couldn't. The last thing he saw was the fracture of flashing lights, and then his eyes slid closed, and the sound and the pain faded into unconsciousness.

~vVv~

Tony was lying on his side, facing away from the door, his knees drawn up to his chest. Jenny didn't want to startle him, so she walked quietly into the room and around the end of the bed. He was sleeping, the bright green cast pushed up on the pillow, close to his head. He hadn't been asleep for long. She could tell, for as she drew closer she could see tears clinging to the ends of his long eyelashes; it wasn't the first time he'd cried himself to sleep. She didn't want to wake him, and yet she knew he would want to see her. And she wanted to reassure him before the nightmares came.

Gently, she touched his right shoulder, rubbed her hand along his arm. He stirred. She moved her hand up, her fingers brushing strands of his hair back from his forehead. She frowned at the bruise above his left eyebrow and the jagged cut along his hairline. Six stitches. Only six stitches. No concussion, no more brain damage. He'd actually been very lucky.

She touched his arm again, shook him carefully. "Tony... Tony, wake up."

He shifted and groaned, eyes fluttering.

"Tony? It's me, Jenny. You're all right."

His eyes snapped open, and he blinked, confusion and tears quickly filling the green depths.

"Tony." Jenny touched his cheek. "I'm here."

"Jenny?" he breathed, a sob catching in his throat.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, and he pushed himself up into her embrace, long arms and legs unfolding and then refolding around her, halfway on her lap.

"Shh," she whispered, rocking him gently, cradling his head on her shoulder, her fingers stroking the fevered skin at his temple. "Shh, Tony."

"I don't want…ice cream...don't want any," he mumbled, his face pressed to her chest. "Don't want ice cream."

"Tony, it's all right."

"B...Boss...gonna…get ice cream." She felt his head shaking. "Don't want any. I...I want Boss. Where's Boss?"

"He's going to be all right. The doctors are taking good care of him. And Ducky's with him."

Tony's crying intensified, tears of frustration and relief. And she rubbed his back, her hand reaching through the partially open gown, fingertips on skin; she murmured soothing words into his ear. Long moments passed and gradually the tears subsided and he relaxed against her.

He drew in a shaking breath and let it out. "I don't want ice cream."

Jenny closed her eyes and tightened her arms around him. She knew what he was thinking. As Tony always did, he was taking the blame, thinking that the fact that he'd wanted ice cream had been the reason for the accident.

"Tony, it wasn't your fault. It wasn't because you and Jethro were going to get ice cream."

He sniffled against her shirt. "Boss said...we'd get ice cream. But...I don't want it."

She felt his shoulders trembling as he began to cry again, his tears hot and wet against her chest. She stroked her hand through his hair; it was still damp from where they'd sponged away the blood.

"Tony, Jethro is going to be just fine. And so are you. I promise."

He swallowed convulsively, drawing in another shaking breath. "You...mad...said no ice cream."

"Oh, no... No, Tony, I'm not mad." She held him tighter. "I knew Jethro was planning on getting ice cream. I was teasing with him before you left."

Tony pulled away slightly, staring up at Jenny. She brushed at the tears beneath his eyes with her fingers.

"I love you, Tony. And I love Jethro. And everything's all right."

Tony was silent for a moment. She could tell he was thinking, his mouth twisting with unspoken words.

She drew her hand along his cheek. "Tony?"

"You...love me?"

And she smiled, pulling him closer, kissing his forehead. "Oh, yes, I love you, Tony. Very much."

Another deep sigh relaxed his body again, and the muscle and bone beneath her hands seemed to grow softer.

"Love you," he murmured and closed his eyes.

And she rocked him until he fell asleep against her shoulder.

~vVv~