Title: Even a strong man
Author: Ceindreadh
Email: Ceindreadh@eircom.net
Genre (general, hetero or slash) Slash
Pairing/Characters: Gibbs/McGee
Rating: FRT 17
Summary: Sometimes even the strongest of men needs somebody to lean on.
Warnings: Slash, hurt/comfort, spoilers for Twilight, little bit of angst and maybe tissues required.
Disclaimer. I don't own the NCIS characters, I'm only borrowing them, and I promise to return them in good condition when I'm finished.


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Even the strongest of men sometimes needs somebody to lean on.

-----

Gibbs was the strongest man that McGee knew. Maybe not the strongest physically; McGee had seen plenty of bodybuilders who could have probably lifted Gibbs over their heads one handed. But not all strength was of the physical variety, and while Tony might have had the edge over Gibbs in an arm wrestling contest, if McGee was asked off the top of his head to name the stronger of the two, he'd have picked Gibbs straight away.

But Gibbs didn't look strong either physically or emotionally right now. Hospitals tended to drain the strength out of a person, especially when you were just sitting there waiting...waiting to see if your colleague...your friend...would live or die.

It seemed to McGee that they'd been there for hours...days even, waiting for the surgeon to finish operating on Tony.

------

The case had gone badly from the start. With few leads in the investigation, Gibbs had been forced to put Tony in undercover, in the hopes that having him pose as a prospective seller of stolen goods that he could find the property they were trying to track. Not that the property itself was that important, but the owner - the wife of a marine - had been injured when she'd interrupted the burglars.

So Tony had put on a wire and a smile and 'Gus Bricker' had been resurrected to charm his way into the good books of a fence who was reputed to be the guy they were looking for. Unfortunately Tony's charms had failed, and he'd been outed as a cop before he could get the fence to incriminate himself.

Things had gone from bad to worse, and by the time Gibbs and McGee - who'd been listening to the proceedings - had fought their way through assorted lowlifes, Tony was lying on the ground, bleeding from a pair of gunshot wounds.

"Dammit DiNozzo, don't you dare die on me!" Gibbs was yelling as he tried to stop the bleeding.

"Guess...guess I messed up, Boss," Tony forced a smile onto his lips. "Sor...sorry..." He groaned in pain as Gibbs applied more pressure to Tony's abdomen.

"Shut up, DiNozzo," growled Gibbs.

McGee had phoned for paramedics, and now he crouched down beside Tony, wishing he'd paid more attention in the first aid course that both he and Tony had attended the previous year. Tony hadn't been paying much attention either, but whereas Tony's attention had been focused on the pretty young paramedic who'd been assisting the lecturer, McGee had been focusing on trying not to lose his lunch as the lecturer detailed the type and treatment of all the injuries they were likely to sustain in the field.

All he could think to do was shrug off his jacket and place it under Tony's head in an effort to make Tony more comfortable.

"Tha...thanks, Probie," said Tony, weakly. His hand moved sluggishly and McGee grabbed it, squeezing it as if in an effort to lend some of his strength to his friend.

"The ambulance is on its way, Tony," said McGee, as reassuringly as it was possible for him to be, with Tony bleeding all over the floor in front of him. "Just hang in there, it won't be too much longer..."

It was only a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity before the paramedics arrived and took over. One of them tried to examine Gibbs, seeing that he had a gash on his head that had been sustained during the fight to reach Tony's side. But Gibbs just glared at him and said that Tony was the one needing all the attention so the paramedic backed down.

And now they sat in the hospital waiting room, both of them wondering if they'd ever see Tony alive again.

McGee was the first one to break the silence, "Um, Boss...you've got Tony's blood on your hands..."

"I know," said Gibbs, his voice more subdued than McGee had ever heard it. "God, do you think I don't *know* that? I should never have sent him in there alone, and without even a vest. God, what the hell was I thinking?" He pushed himself up from the chair and started pacing back and forth. "Of course I know what everybody will be thinking if Tony doesn't...doesn't make it." He laughed hollowly. "Gibbs the jinx. Two of his team down and only one to go." Gibbs stopped pacing and looked at McGee. "You want to transfer to a team where the guy in charge takes better care of his team, be my guest. Hell, you obviously think it's all my fault anyway."

He stalked over to a wall, and for a second McGee thought he was going to put his fist through it, but instead he just braced himself against it, looking as if he wanted to push it down with his bare hands.

McGee stood and walked over to Gibbs. He warily put his hand on the older mans shoulder. "Boss, I don't blame you for what happened to Tony. He was the one who made the decision to go without a vest because it would have looked odd wearing a jacket on a day this hot." McGee took a deep breath before continuing. He knew he wasn't great at this sort of thing. Tony would have been much better...he would have had Gibbs feeling a lot more like Gibbs with just a few quick comments. Kate would have known what to say as well, but she was dead and Tony could be dying and McGee knew that he was the only person that Gibbs had right at that moment to lean on. "I don't blame you for Kate's death either. Neither does Tony. Ari was the one who made the decision to pull the trigger, and nothing you said or did would have changed his mind once he'd made it up."

Gibbs looked at McGee. "Yeah, right. Kate's blood is on my hands, just like Tony's." He started to push McGee away, but the younger agent caught him by the wrist before he could touch him.

"I was talking *literally*, Boss," said McGee, keeping firm hold of Gibbs's wrist with one hand and pulling out a handkerchief with the other. "You got his blood on you when you were saving his life." He started wiping the blood away. "I'm surprised the E.R. nurses didn't clean it off when they sutured your head." McGee looked up from his ministrations just in time to catch a sheepish look flicker across Gibbs's face. "Ah, let me guess. You glared and yelled and made them so nervous that they gave you a needle and thread and told you to do it yourself?"

This time there was a definite uplifting of the lips as Gibbs said, "Close, but I didn't make them cry until *after* they'd stitched me up." He sighed heavily. "Dammit McGee, I should have made Tony wear the vest. I should have gone in with him...or instead of him."

"This isn't your fault," said McGee.

"No, but it's my responsibility. Just like Tony is, just like you are...like Kate was..." Gibbs took a deep breath. "Whatever happens to somebody on my team, happens to me. Or at least it feels that way. The bottom line is, I'm the one in charge, and I'm the one who should take the hit. That's why they pay me the big bucks." The last was said in a more sarcastic tone than McGee had ever heard Gibbs use before. "I'm the one who should have been in the firing line."

"No," said McGee, firmly, with more authority in his tone than he'd ever used when contradicting Gibbs. At the back of his mind he was thinking that maybe disagreeing with Gibbs and pissing him off wasn't the best thing he could be doing right now, but he couldn't let Gibbs wallow in guilt any longer.

"No, Boss," repeated McGee. "You're the guy in charge, the guy who has to send us into situations that we may not come out of...but you're also the guy who'll move heaven and earth to get us out of there in one piece, and whatever the dangers, I know you'll always have my back. Tony knows that as well, there's nobody we'd rather have looking out for us than you."

There was silence between the two men, and then Gibbs's expression changed, and McGee was sure he was going to bite his head off...and then he saw that Gibbs wasn't looking at him, but at a point over his shoulder...where the surgeon had just walked into the room.

McGee could hear his heart pounding as they waited for the surgeon's verdict.

"How is he, Doc?" Only somebody who had spent the last year working side by side with Gibbs would have noticed the slight waver in his voice. "Is he..."

"He's fine," said Doctor Harte, his voice calm and reassuring. "Or at least he will be once his injuries have had time to heal."

McGee zoned out slightly as the Doctor recited the list of damage the bullets had done to Tony's body. All he could focus on was that Tony was going to recover. Oh sure, he'd be battered and bruised and probably off work for several weeks if not longer, but the main thing, the only important thing, was that he was still alive.

"Can I see him?" McGee tuned back in to hear Gibbs ask this.

"Not tonight," replied Doctor Harte. "He's still very weak from blood loss and the anesthesia. I don't expect him to be ready for visitors till at least the morning."

"Then I'll wait here until morning," said Gibbs. He took a step towards the chair he'd been sitting on earlier, only to sway slightly.

McGee caught him quickly and lowered him to the chair. Doctor Harte crouched down in front of Gibbs and quickly took his pulse. Or at least he tried to; Gibbs pushed his hands away before he could count more than a few beats. "I'm fine, dammit," he snapped, sounding more like his usual self.

"You don't look fine to me," said Harte. "I should have one of the ER doc's take a look at you."

"They already did," growled Gibbs. "It's just a bang on the head, mild concussion, if that."

"Hmm, well I think it might be no harm to admit you overnight..." Doctor Harte saw the look on Gibbs face and added quickly, "Or at the very least you should go home and rest. There's nothing you can do here. I promise I'll have the nurses phone you if there's the slightest change in Agent DiNozzo's condition. But really, you'll do him no good by making yourself sick."

It was probably the head injury, but Gibbs agreed to the Doctor's suggestion without much argument. Possibly the fact that the Doctor threatened to have him admitted forcibly, on the grounds that he wasn't able to look after himself properly, was a contributing factor.

"And you should have somebody stay with you tonight," said the Doctor. "Get them to check you every few hours."

"I'll do it," said McGee quickly, seeing that Gibbs was about to argue. "There's a spare bed at my place, Boss. It's nearer to the hospital as well...just in case..." He didn't need to finish the sentence.

-----

Gibbs wandered around McGee's apartment, looking at all the various pieces of electronic equipment. "N.C.I.S. must be paying you too much if you can afford this sort of electronics."

"It's actually not that expensive to set up. The router was fairly expensive, but I got a top of the range controller card in a sale and Abby helped me add a few ...and you don't really need to know this, right Boss?"

"I don't even know what half of this stuff does," said Gibbs in bemusement.

"Well I don't know how to build a boat, so I guess that makes us even." To McGee's relief, Gibbs finally cracked a smile.

A few mugs of coffee later, McGee was doing his best to make that smile return. But Gibbs seemed determined to keep his bad mood going. "I feel like I'm a goddamned dinosaur," he was grumbling. "Even Tony knows more about computers and crap like that. Maybe if you had a younger boss, somebody who knew about this shit." Gibbs sighed heavily, letting his head fall back against the couch he and McGee were sitting on, it being the only piece of furniture not currently occupied by books and computers and all sort of electronic doodads that Gibbs was half afraid to touch in case he blew it up. "Maybe then Tony wouldn't be lying in the hospital." He knocked back his coffee, not as strong as he liked it, but a good effort from McGee, who obviously didn't drink it that much himself.

"Boss, I won't let you beat yourself up like that," said McGee, firmly. It was probably the caffeine buzz that was making him so confident, he thought. He hadn't wanted Gibbs to be drinking alone, and had been doing his best to match him, mug for mug. Unfortunately, he wasn't really used to Gibbs strength coffee, which probably accounted for some, but only some of his words and actions.
"The only reason Tony's in hospital and not dead right now is because of you. You knew even before he did that the sting was going sour. Nobody else could have gotten to Tony so quickly."

Gibbs waved a hand dismissively as McGee continued. He was aware that he wasn't really getting through to his Boss, but it was hardly surprising. Seeing somebody's blood on your hands could really freak out a person...and boy, had there been a lot of blood...Tony's chest had been covered with it...so much damage from only a couple of bullets. McGee's voice trailed off as the image stuck in his mind. He could feel his hands shake as he clenched them round the coffee mug, and he was dimly aware of Gibbs calling his name as the room seemed to fade away around him.

-----

"McGee, snap out of it. Come on Tim, do *not* do this to me...I will *not* deal with paramedics twice in one day."

McGee shook his head as the room came back into focus. His hands were now empty...at least of the mug...instead he could see Gibbs clutching one of them, squeezing it painfully. "Oh...what...what happened?"

"You passed out on me, that's what happened," snapped Gibbs. "Nearly wasted a mug of coffee as well." His words may have sounded harsh, but there was an underlying note of concern in his voice.

"I was talking about Tony...and I could see the blood..." Tim shuddered and closed his eyes, only to be shaken roughly.

"Hey, stay with me," said Gibbs. "You're probably just suffering from delayed shock. Maybe I'm not the only one the doc's should have taken a look at."

"I'm sorry, Boss," said McGee. "I should be used to it, I mean it's not as if I don't see blood and stuff every day. I should be stronger."

"You're plenty strong," said Gibbs, squeezing McGee's hand gently. "You managed to hold it together when it counted...when Tony needed you. It's always hard when it's one of our own, but you did what had to be done, *when* it had to be done. You did well out there today, Tim."

"I...thanks, Boss," said McGee.

"There's no shame in letting it all out when the crisis has passed."

"So why don't you?" asked McGee, looking Gibbs straight in the eye. He heard the sudden intake of breath, and quickly tightened his grip on Gibbs's hand, so that the older man couldn't pull it away. Not that he would have been able to stop Gibbs...that is, if Gibbs had really *wanted* to pull away. With his other hand, McGee reached out and squeezed Gibbs's shoulder. "I know you've been running yourself ragged since Kate died. Trying to find Ari, and then when you couldn't get him, you've been pushing yourself to the limit, putting as much effort into finding a petty burglar as you would a mass murderer. You can't go on like this, you'll burn yourself out...and it's not going to bring Kate back..."

Gibbs's voice was cold as he said, "So you think you know what way my mind is working?"

McGee shook his head, "No Boss...but Tony does. He's worried about you; he knows how obsessed you can get. We were going to talk to you about it, try to get you to slow down, but we sort of kept putting it off, figuring you'd ease up a bit given time. Boss, we're part of your team, you don't just look out for us, it's our job to look out for you as well." His hand reached up almost involuntarily and cupped Gibbs's cheek. "You don't have to carry this burden alone." Encouraged by the fact that Gibbs hadn't ripped his arm off and started beating him about the head with it, McGee gently stroked Gibbs' face. "You don't have to be alone."

Gibbs's voice was heavy with emotion as he said, "There's a reason for rule twelve."

"It doesn't hurt any less to lose somebody even when you're not in a relationship with them," said McGee, softly. "But I'm not talking about anything long term...I just don't think I want to be alone tonight." He continued to stroke Gibbs's cheek with his hand, only to feel Gibbs remove it. McGee started to pull away, but stopped when Gibbs raised his hand and brushed his lips against it.

"I don't think I want to be alone tonight either," he admitted.

-----

It wasn't sex, McGee told himself, as he lay awake in the bed several hours later. Okay, that was a lie. It had been sex, but it had been more than just sex. He wasn't sure it counted as 'making love' if you weren't really in love with your partner. But then that wasn't right either, because while he didn't want to do the whole 'hearts and flowers' and picking out rings and till death do us part routine with Gibbs, he cared for him as much as he did anybody in his life...he'd take a bullet for him and do anything he asked, and if that wasn't love, well it was as near as made no difference.

He shifted slightly on the mattress. Beside him, Gibbs muttered restlessly in his sleep. McGee maneuvered himself until he was lying beside Gibbs, with one arm wrapped protectively around the older man. "Shhh," he whispered softly. "You're only dreaming. It's okay."

It wasn't fucking either, thought McGee, as he pulled Gibbs in close against his chest. Fucking was such a crude word and one totally unsuited for what he and Gibbs had been doing. While McGee wouldn't have considered himself a total novice when it came to intercourse with another man, he hadn't been entirely surprised to find that Gibbs - as usual - was more experienced than him.

What had been surprising to McGee was that Gibbs had allowed *him* to take the lead. Maybe it had been because this was *his* bedroom after all, but McGee felt that there was something more to it...that it was Gibbs's way of showing that maybe just this once, somebody else could be the one in charge. Fortunately for all concerned, McGee had been able to rise to the occasion, and while their coupling hadn't exactly reached the orgasmic heights of passion that he'd achieved with other partners, it was still what one of his girlfriends used to call 'a nice comforting fuck'. And really, that was probably the best way to think of it.

Satisfied that he had classified this unresolved issue correctly, McGee slept.

------

He woke to an empty bed, and the smell of coffee drifting in from the kitchen.

Pulling on a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, McGee stumbled out of the bedroom to find a sight he'd never thought he'd see. Special Agent Jethro Gibbs, standing in *his* kitchen, and making breakfast.

It was clear from his body language and his tone of voice, that Gibbs was, if not completely back to his normal self, then at least well on the way there. The fact that he was meeting McGee's eyes was also a good sign, as the younger agent had had more than one sexual encounter, which had rendered him unable to make eye contact with his partner the next morning.

"Morning McGee," said Gibbs in his usual brisk manner. "How do you like your eggs?"

"Um, er, fried I guess." McGee sat down at the breakfast counter, "Uh, do you want me to make breakfast, I mean you are my guest..."

Gibbs shook his head as he expertly cracked the eggs into the pan. "Been making my own breakfast since my last divorce. Come to think of it, I was making it through much of the last marriage as well." He put a mug of coffee on the counter in front of McGee and added, "Phoned the hospital. DiNozzo is awake, complaining about the lack of cable on his TV, and has already gotten the phone number of one of his nurses."

Well that certainly explained at least part of Gibbs's upbeat mood, thought McGee, even as he said automatically, "Wow, only one phone number...guess Tony must be doing worse than I thought. I'd have figured he'd have at least three by now."

Gibbs nearly choked on his coffee, and for a second McGee was sure he was annoyed, but then he started laughing. "Yeah, you're probably right there...but they did say he'd only been awake an hour or two. By the time we get there he'll probably have gotten dates with half of them."

They managed to keep the conversation going throughout the meal without once referring to the events of the previous night. It wasn't until they were both showered and dressed and ready to leave for the hospital that McGee finally broached the subject.

"Boss," he said, a little hesitantly. "About last night..."

"Rule twelve still applies," said Gibbs, firmly, although McGee was sure he saw a trace of regret on his face.

"I know Boss, and I'm not asking you to break it. I just wanted to say...thank you."

"I'm the one who should be thanking you, McGee," said Gibbs. He reached out and squeezed McGee's shoulder. "What happened last night...I needed it. I'm not ashamed to admit that even if it was just for one night, it was good to let somebody else take charge. But last night was last night, and from here on it's business as usual, okay?"

"Sure thing, Boss," said McGee, not a trace of regret in his voice, and only a little in his heart as he added, "Besides, it'd have never worked out." He waited until he got the 'Gibbs wants answers and *now*' look from his boss before continuing, "I couldn't afford to keep you in coffee!"

They were both still smiling as they left the apartment.

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The End