"It's a what?" Gibbs looked at the pillow dubiously.

Tony grinned, laughed, and looked like he regretted it when he started coughing, one arm wrapped protectively around his ribs. "It's a husband," he said hoarsely when he stopped. "So called because it's designed to support you, see?"

"I see what it's supposed to do, DiNozzo. I think the name's idiotic." Gibbs shook his head even as he helped Tony settle into bed, resting against the--backrest. Pillow. Anything other than that stupid name.

"Yeah, well. It works." Tony sighed a little with relief once he was lying against it, half-propped up. He closed his eyes; Gibbs saw the dark circles under them, the pallor of his skin, and barely resisted the urge to stroke Tony's hair. "This came in really handy the last time I had bronchitis. Figured plague couldn't be *that* different, right?"

Gibbs winced a little at the word. "If it's not, I expect you back at work in two days," he said gruffly.

"And then again, maybe it is." Tony opened his eyes, managing a grin. "I'm okay, Gibbs. I've got this thing, I have the thermos of tea Kate made me, I have my cough syrup and my useless antibiotics and the ibuprofen for my ribs, which are okay, and I have my great-grandmother's afghan." He tugged the crocheted blue blanket a little higher on his legs. "You can go back to...whatever now."

"You can barely get out of bed without falling over, DiNozzo. What are you going to do if you have to use the bathroom?" Gibbs glared at him.

"Improvise?" Tony offered.

"You got out of the hospital by promising the doctor someone would keep an eye on you until your lungs were clear. The infection's gone, the effects aren't. Would you rather I had Kate here? Or Ducky?"

"Boss, you wouldn't," Tony all-but-pleaded. "Not without earplugs." He looked about to say something else but ended up coughing instead, leaning forward with one hand clenched in the soft blue wool, his body shaking with the force of it.

He fell back against the pillow with a groan, breathing shallowly. "Okay," he said after a moment. "Maybe it wouldn't hurt to have someone here for a little while." His voice was hoarse from coughing, his skin was sweaty, and hearing those words come out of his mouth scared Gibbs almost as much as when he'd seen Tony lying in bed, breath rattling in his chest and fighting for every breath he took.

"Damnit, DiNozzo, stop doing this to me," he muttered under his breath.

"Doing...what?" Tony blinked up at him and Gibbs groaned inwardly. He'd forgotten that even when he was sick, Tony's hearing was better than most.

"I haven't lost an agent yet and you keep trying to mess up my record," Gibbs told him. "First it was Voss, then it was White, and now Lowell. How many more times are you going to get yourself nearly killed?"

"Dunno, Boss. How much longer am I going to work for you?" Tony asked. "I'm not the only one who ends up in danger around here, or do I have to remind you of that water delivery boy sniper? Or Ari?"

"That's--"

"Don't even tell me it's different," Tony interrupted. "It's my job, same as yours. Same damn thing, Boss." He bit back a cough, glaring back at Gibbs. "Same damn thing."

Gibbs sighed and leaned against the wall. It was different. He knew it was, and he knew why. But he wasn't about to explain that to Tony. Not now. Not when Tony was exhausted and sick and still looking one step better than one of Ducky's patients.

Not ever, the little voice in his mind said.

"Get some sleep, DiNozzo," he said gruffly. "You look like hell."

"Always nice to know you care," Tony said wryly. He sighed and closed his eyes. "You don't have to stay," he said around a yawn.

"You let me decide that, DiNozzo. For now you just go to sleep."

"Yes, Boss." Tony's lips quirked in a smile and he settled against the backrest, his breathing beginning to even out almost immediately.

Gibbs watched him for a bit, until he was certain Tony was asleep. "What am I going to do with you?" he murmured, walking over to the bed. He looked down at Tony and sighed, unable to resist running his fingers through Tony's hair. "What the hell am I going to do with you?"

Tony sighed, nuzzling into the caress. His lips brushed over Gibbs' palm and Gibbs nearly jerked his hand away before reminding himself that Tony was asleep and didn't know what he was doing. He wasn't deliberately trying to drive Gibbs insane.

Tony saved that for when he was awake.

Gibbs brushed his thumb over Tony's forehead. He needed to leave, now, before he did something incredibly stupid. He should call Ducky, or Kate, or even Abby--ask them to come and baby-sit. He shouldn't be here.

He couldn't make himself leave.

Tony sighed again, but this time it turned into a cough. His eyes flew open and he bent forward, the rattling wet cough shaking his body. Gibbs pulled away, waiting for him to stop, but he couldn't seem to get enough air.

"Hit me--" Tony gasped out, trying to breathe. "Back--"

He knew what Tony meant; he'd seen the doctors do it. He slapped Tony's back, again and again, helping loosen the mucus in his lungs, making it easier for him to breathe until Tony could stop coughing.

"Thought I was done with this," Tony said breathlessly, head hanging forward.

"It'll go away." Gibbs didn't even realize he was rubbing Tony's back until Tony smiled and turned to look at him.

"You didn't break anything, you know. I'm okay." Despite his words, Tony didn't move away--if anything, he pressed a little more into Gibbs' touch.

"That's an awfully broad term, coming from you," Gibbs pointed out.

Tony shrugged a little. "I'm not dead, Boss. I'd say I'm doing fine."

"There is that." Gibbs squeezed Tony's shoulder and let go. He told himself he imagined the brief look of disappointment on Tony's face.

"I didn't--" Tony sighed carefully and leaned back against the pillow. "I didn't think I'd make it."

"If you hadn't, you'd have had to deal with me."

Tony smiled. "Can't leave me alone even in the afterlife?"

"I'm not losing one of my people because some bitch went off the deep end." Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "You have a problem with that, DiNozzo?"

"Always thought a woman'd be my undoing. Never figured it'd be one I didn't even know." Tony grinned again.

"Be more careful next time."

"Boss, any of us could have opened that letter. Even Kate, although that's about as likely as me putting on a blue gingham pinafore and ruby shoes and heading down the Yellow Brick Road."

"Not a friend of Dorothy?" Gibbs couldn't resist the quip. He wasn't sure Tony would know what it meant, but it was too good to pass up.

To his surprise--and inward amusement--Tony blushed bright red. "How did you know that term?" he managed after a moment, staring fixedly at his lap.

"I'm not *completely* out of touch with popular culture, and that one's been around longer than you have. How did *you* know it?" Gibbs asked, unable to hide the laughter in his voice.

"Um. Long story." Tony shifted a little, looking uncomfortable.

"I'm not going to give you a hard time over it," Gibbs said quietly.

Tony dropped his face into his hands. "Thanks," he muttered.

The easiest thing to do was change the subject or drop it entirely, and for once, taking the easiest way out wasn't such a bad thing. Gibbs opened the thermos of tea Kate had made and poured out a cup, handing it to Tony silently. "It'll help your throat," he said.

Tony sipped, grimacing a little. "What'd she do, pour the entire honey bottle in here?"

"Never thought you'd complain something was too sweet," Gibbs said wryly.

"It's too thick. Tea with honey should still be recognizably *tea*. My great-grandmother taught me that, when I was sick as a kid." Tony smiled a little. "Tea with honey and lemon. It was her cure for everything."

"My grandmother's, too," Gibbs admitted with a smile. "That and chicken soup."

"Well, yeah." Tony sipped again, sighing a little as the hot liquid eased his throat. "Thought you didn't get sick, Boss."

"Didn't say it was her cure for *me*, DiNozzo."

"Don't make me laugh, I end up coughing." Tony grinned anyway as he took another sip before setting the cup down. "Would you sit down? Or something? Cause I'm getting tired of looking up at you."

Gibbs glanced around before seeing a chair in the corner of the room. He moved the folded pile of laundry off it and brought it over to the bed, sitting down. "Better?" he asked.

"Much. Thank you." Tony smiled faintly. "You don't have to stay, Boss. It's late, you're probably exhausted, and i'll be all right. I just need to take the cough syrup again and I'll be okay."

"I'm not leaving you alone, Tony. Deal with it." Gibbs picked up the cough syrup and the little cup, measuring out the correct dosage and handing it to him. "If you want to be alone, I'll go find your couch. But you're not staying here alone until the doctor says your lungs are clear."

Tony tossed back the cough syrup in one swallow, wincing at the taste. He picked up the tea and drank before putting the cup down with a sigh. "Damn stuff makes me sleepy," he muttered, glaring at the bottle.

"You need the rest."

"Not very restful," Tony said under his breath.

Gibbs frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just keep waking up coughing." But Tony wouldn't look at him.

"Tony." Gibbs leaned forward, resting a hand on Tony's shoulder. "What is it?"

"It's stupid," Tony muttered.

"If it's keeping you from sleeping, it's not stupid. What. Is. It?"

Tony sighed, picking at the blanket. "I keep...I keep dreaming I can't breathe. That there's no air, and no matter what I do I can't breathe. Keep waking up hyperventilating, so then I start coughing, and, well..." He shrugged. "You know the drill."

"I know." Gibbs squeezed Tony's shoulder. "You tell the doctor about them?"

"No." Tony shook his head. "I figure they'll go away, you know? Once I can breathe."

Gibbs wasn't so sure about that. He knew, all too well, what it was like to have dreams that stayed with you. But Tony didn't want to hear that and it wasn't going to help. "What happened in the hospital?" he asked. "When you woke up."

"I told them it was a coughing fit. They gave me medicine and water and left me alone." Tony twisted a corner of the afghan around his finger and let go. "Haven't managed to sleep through the night since...before."

"Well, that explains why you still look like crap," Gibbs said, using sarcasm to hide the concern. "Did you ask them about something to help with that?"

"No. I don't need sleeping pills." Tony shook his head firmly. "I'll be okay."

"You were in the hospital for a week and you've got two weeks of sick leave coming. Your lungs aren't completely clear yet, you can't lie flat on your back without coughing, and you've got the team playing babysitter to make sure you don't do something idiotic. And now you're telling me that you can't sleep because you wake up hyperventilating. What part of this is 'okay', DiNozzo?"

He knew his voice had been too sharp when he saw Tony wince, almost visibly huddling against the pillow. "Sorry, Boss," Tony whispered. "Just..."

"Hell, DiNozzo. It's not your fault." Gibbs sighed and sat back in the chair. "Look," he said after a moment. "Would it help it I stayed here?"

"I don't need you to hold my hand while I sleep. That's--"

"Didn't say i was going to hold your hand." Much as he wanted to--no. "I'm just offering to stay here so you can get some sleep, get better, and the rest of us can stop worrying about you."

Tony bit his lip, looking fixedly at the blanket.

Gibbs sighed again. "Go to sleep, Tony," he said quietly. "I'll be here when you wake up."

He watched as Tony closed his eyes, waiting for his body to relax and his breathing to even out. It didn't take long--his mind might be convinced he couldn't breathe, but his body was exhausted. Gibbs was frankly amazed he'd managed to stay awake most of the day.

Clouds shifted outside and the sun began to set; Tony shifted on the bed, breathing becoming labored as he fought for air. Gibbs leaned forward, resting a hand on Tony's shoulder. "Breathe, Tony," he said softly in Tony's ear. "It's just a dream. Breathe for me."

He barely hid the relieved laughter when it worked.

"Ah, hell, Tony," Gibbs murmured under his breath, sitting back in the chair. "What the hell am I going to do with you now?"