Chapter twelve
Gibbs awoke to the sound of soft snoring beside him. Tony has turned onto his back, and lay with both arms stretched above his head. He looked so at peace Gibbs felt the last remaining tension from Jenny’s visit fade away.
Gibbs sat up, wincing slightly as his leg ached, reminding him why he was in bed at 3 p.m. in the first place. He reached for the orange pill bottle on his bedside table, shaking out a couple before washing them down with a glass of water. He sank back into the pillows, looking at the man beside him. Tony was lying fully clothed on top of the sheets. Gibbs ran his hand across Tony’s chest, feeling it rise and fall steadily as he slept. Closing his eyes, he let that feeling of contentment seep through him, one breath at a time. Suddenly the doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of the physical therapist, Andrew. Tony stirred, blinked and got out of bed. He was half way down the stairs before Gibbs even had the chance to say a word.
Distant voices and the sound of laughter drifted upstairs. Gibbs hoisted himself up further, and swung his legs off the side of the bed. They were supposed to practice using the crutches this afternoon, making it easier for him to move around. He wouldn’t mind being able to get downstairs tonight. Being cooped up in his bedroom was not something he enjoyed, at least when it didn’t involve sex, he smiled to himself. Reaching for his robe, he managed to shrug into it before Andrew and Tony got back upstairs.
“I’ll be in the living room if you need me,” Tony said before heading back downstairs. He usually left them on their own, something Gibbs greatly appreciated.
“Will I be able to walk downstairs today?” Gibbs asked as he took a tentative step forward, with Andrew close by his side.
“Are you still experiencing bouts of dizziness when you get up?”
“Yes, this morning as I got up,” Gibbs admitted reluctantly. “But, not now. This time I’m fine, no dizziness at all.”
Brown eyes appraised him frankly, before deciding he was not lying. “Ok, as long as you don’t attempt to walk down the stairs on your own. You must always have someone with you. Do I make myself clear, Gunny?”
Gibbs had to smile, “Loud and clear, Andrew.”
After a while they moved on to working on his leg. The exercises were designed to help keep the muscles strong. They were working on an easy range of motion; it was still early days. In a couple of days, when the swelling had reduced further, they would start putting a little weight bearing on the leg. But right now, Gibbs knew this was as much as he could take. The pain was still severe, but not crippling. The painkillers had kicked in, dulling it to a steady ache.
The only thing that mattered was the end result. As a sniper he’d sometimes waited for days for his target, days. He’d learned patience, perseverance. Right now, he needed to dip into those resources, focusing on what would happen when he had regained his strength, was back at work. Then, he could focus on his relationship with Tony. He longed to get to know the other man as a lover, a partner…
“Hey, Gibbs, you’re not focusing!”
“Sorry, Andy, my mind wandered,” he admitted sheepishly.
“Someplace nice, I’d say, judging by the grin on your face.”
“Yeah, I hope so…” he trailed off, as he once again paid attention to what the physical therapist was doing.
******
Ziva eyed McGee curiously, wondering why on earth the other agent found computers and software so fascinating. At the moment he was deeply engrossed in a new program he’d obtained, designed to break through sophisticated encryption codes. She was fully capable of seeing the value of such a program, but the sheer fascination she read on his face somewhat baffled her. Behind him, Abby was walking back and forth, clearly agitated. The forensic scientist kept mumbling. Ziva could only make out the occasional word being hissed, like Gibbs and outrageous. Probably something to do with the visit by the Director this morning, she concluded.
Ziva hadn’t seen her since she came into the office. A few minutes after she had arrived at work, Jenny had stormed by, disappearing upstairs into her office. That was five hours ago. A faint ping from her computer signaled a new email. Her curiosity was piqued when she saw Shepard had sent it. Opening it, she read a brief note requesting her company for dinner that evening.
Hesitating briefly, she wrote a reply, accepting the offer. They had been out on a few occasions since she started at NCIS, but these dinners were few and far apart. As much as she enjoyed Jenny’s company, it was clear their relationship was not as it had been in Europe.
She glanced across the bullpen. Things were definitely heating up. Abby looked like she was about to take off, becoming more and more agitated by the minute. Sighing, she grabbed a file and went to talk to Ducky. Maybe he could tell her how Gibbs was doing.
******
McGee could barely concentrate. The sound of Abby’s jingling boots were quite distracting. And her mumbling! God. He tried to tune her out. The new software seemed very promising and he ached to try it out.
“Doesn’t she know that I’m one of the few persons that can kill her and leave no forensic evidence? You know that, McGee. I told you, didn’t I.”
McGee spun around, “Are you insane, Abby? Talking like that in front of the cameras? You wanna be thrown in jail?”
Abby snorted. “Yeah, like that’s gonna happen.” She leaned over his desk, snatching an apple McGee had been saving for lunch.
“Hey!” he complained. Abby ignored him, munching happily away before continuing her tale.
“Something’s off with the Director,” she ranted on. She has some sort of hidden agenda I just can’t get my head around. But I will. I will find out, even if it means having to…” She waived the remains of McGee’s apple around; using is to underline her argument.
“Shut up!” McGee yelled. This was really getting out of hand. He got up, slapped the apple out of her hand and dragged an increasingly pissed off Abby into Gibbs’ favorite conference room.
“Listen, Abby. You’ve got to get a grip. We can’t give Shepard any more ammunition than she’s already got. You get that, right?”
Suddenly deflated, she slumped against him, wrapping her arms around his waist, holding him tight.
“I’ll be good, Tim,” she whispered. “But I might have to make a Shepard voodoo doll, just to play, just a little bit,” she added hotly, some of her anger flaring up again.
McGee chuckled and tightened his hold on her. “I’ll help you find a hair or a piece of clothing or whatever it is you need to make that thing work,” he promised.
“Deal, McKalfu!
“McWho??”
“He’s a spirit of the night, the origin of darkness.”
“McScary…” He flipped the switch, setting the elevator in motion again.
As they returned to the bullpen, Ziva had returned to her desk. She called McGee over. Abby disappeared back down into her lab, she had to prepare for her upcoming trial.
“We’re starting with the Rowland case, yes?”
“Yeah. Have you had a chance to look at it yet? It was before your time, that one, wasn’t it?”
“Just a brief look. I thought maybe you could take me through it, to give me a sense of what you did.”
McGee was puzzled, normally Ziva preferred to get up to speed on her own, but now she actually asked for help.
“Maybe we could talk over lunch, I haven’t had anything to eat yet. There’s a new Indian restaurant not far from here I’d like to try. My treat,” she continued.
“Your…why…sure!” McGee stuttered, before turning to get his coat.
Before long they were munching away on poppadoms and raita while trying to choose from the menu.
“This is nice,” Ziva said before dipping another poppadom into her mouth.
“So, Ziva, what’s this all about?” McGee asked, thinking he might as well take the bull by the horns.
“How’s Tony doing?” she began, flipping through the menu as she talked.
“He’s fine.” McGee looked at her, wondering where this conversation was headed.
“But not well enough to work, no?” Her brown eyes held his steadily, studying him intently.
“Not at the moment.”
“And he’s staying at Gibbs’ house, yes? Will he be there for long?” She took a sip of her mineral water and closed the menu, apparently having made her choice.
“As long as he’s needed, I guess. Gibbs can’t move around much without help.”
“And Gibbs?”
“What about Gibbs?” McGee was starting to get annoyed.
“I would think Tony would drive him crazy, by just being Tony. That can’t be helping his recovery.”
“There’s more to Tony than meets the eye, Ziva, you know that.”
“I’m beginning to,” she said.
McGee looked at her sharply. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, it’s just that he’s showing a level of concern I haven’t seen him capable of before.”
“That’s crap. You need to look beyond the frat boy cover, that’s all. What’s with all the questions, Ziva? Did Shepard send you to do her dirty work?” McGee felt a knot grow in his stomach.
Ziva paled. “Is that how you see me, McGee, as a pawn in the Director’s little games?”
“You tell me, Ziva.”
Something flared in her eyes, and then it was gone. He had to admire her self-control. She took a deep breath and let it out.
“I’m concerned, that’s all. You think I’m not capable of caring about my team mates, is that it?”
“You’ve not answered my question, Ziva.”
“Will you believe my answer if I do?” She looked almost sad, McGee thought. He considered her question, finally deciding to trust her.
“Yes, I will,” he declared, looking at her evenly.
“No, I have not, nor will I be a pawn in the Director’s little games.”
“I’m glad,” McGee replied.
“What happened this morning?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I was at Gibbs’ house when Jenny arrived. She didn’t look too happy when she went inside. She hesitated briefly, “I wasn’t sure whether to go inside or not. You were all there, and when Jenny arrived, I decided to come back later, or maybe tomorrow.”
“He’ll be happy to see you, Ziva. Don’t be afraid to show you care.”
“What happened?” she repeated.
“I don’t know the specifics, but they had a huge row about Ducky giving Tony two weeks sick leave. She claims he’s not fit to serve on the team, and threatens to pull him off if she feels they are too close.”
“Too close? What do you mean?” Ziva looked truly puzzled.
McGee fought back a blush. “She thinks they have a father/son relationship that’s threatening the integrity of the team. She’s afraid Gibbs has replaced Kelly with Tony, or something.”
Ziva cocked an eyebrow but didn’t reply. “That’s ridiculous,” she insisted. “I wouldn’t describe their relationship in those terms at all.”
McGee tried hard to look nonchalant. “No?”
“No, they have this very strange relationship,” she replied. “I haven’t been able to put a label on it yet,” she said, looking around for a waiter and beckoning him to their table.
“Not everything needs a label, Ziva,” McGee said, picking up the menu as the waiter arrived, ready to take their order.
“Maybe not,” she answered, before giving their waiter her order. While they waited for their meal, the conversation drifted to more neutral topics; a performance at the Kennedy Center they had both visited.
******
The afternoon had passed quickly, what was left of it. Sleeping until three p.m. kinda wrecked havoc with his normal routine. Toeing off his running shoes, Tony couldn’t believe he had slept that long, but reckoned the events of the last few days had something to do with it.
He was just back from a three-mile run. The nurse had come by, as had Abby, so he took the opportunity to get outside without having to worry about Gibbs. The exercise had done him good, he felt invigorated and…hungry! Tantalizing aromas drifted into the hall from the kitchen. Popping his head around the corner, he saw Abby chopping veggies and stirring in what was about to be a delicious pot of gumbo. His eyes traveled further down the kitchen counter; where he spotted a white box he hoped held dessert.
“What’s this?” he asked, moving to take a peek, but not getting far before getting his hand slapped away.
“No peeking!” Abby warned, before continuing to chop celery, onions and peppers. “That’s a secret family recipe, only brought out for very, very special occasions.”
“Fine,” he pouted, before heading for the bathroom and a nice hot shower. “How’s Jethro?”
“I’m doing just fine,” a voice from the living room replied. Tony went to investigate.
Jethro was propped up in a chair, supporting his leg on an ottoman Tony hadn’t seen before.
“He refused to use the wheel chair,” Abby called from the kitchen, “apparently big, badassed Marines don’t need’em.” Tony chuckled and leaned down to capture Gibbs’ mouth in a passionate kiss.
“Mmm,” he whispered, “I needed that,” before stealing another one. Gibbs held Tony’s head in his hands, not wanting to let go. “Me, too,” he said, letting go reluctantly.
“You ok?” Tony asked, eyeing him closely.
“I’m fine,” Gibbs replied. “Sore, a bit tired, bored and desperate for a cup of coffee.”
Tony smiled, “Yeah, you’re doing just splendidly, as Ducky would say.”
“Shut up,” Gibbs growled, but his eyes had a glimmer of humor in them.
Tony left to have a quick shower before dinner. He pulled on some comfortable sweats, and headed back downstairs.
“Need me to do anything?” he asked Abby.
“No, we’re fine. Tim’s setting the table and Ducky’s opening a bottle of wine. None for Gibbs, though, I’m afraid.”
“He’s not much of a wine drinker, anyway, I think,” Tony replied, returning to the living room to talk to Gibbs. He found him looking out the window, listening to Ducky telling what were probably a lengthy story involving his uncle Alistair and a Swedish milk maiden, named Gunilla. Gibbs looked pleadingly at him, but Tony just laughed and went in search of McGee.
“I had a very interesting lunch with Ms David today,” he declared when Tony entered the dining room.
“Did it involve a crash course in how to kill a man with a paper clip? Martial art lessons?”
“No,” McGee huffed, “she practically put me through the third degree, wanting to know how you were doing.”
“You think Jenny’s behind it?”
“No, that’s just it, I don’t. I think she’s genuinely concerned,” McGee replied.
“Really? That’s interesting. Maybe we can trust her with this after all,” Tony said. “I’ll give it some time, though, see how things play out.”
******
The meal had been everything Tony had hoped for. Abby was a wonderful cook, and even Gibbs had managed to eat a full meal. And the cake, man, oh man, was that wonderful. Her great grandmother’s caramel fudge cheesecake, just as delicious as promised.
The team had left early, leaving Tony and Gibbs alone for the night. He’d pulled a chair up to Gibbs’ and they were both watching the moon cast eerie shadows through the garden at the back of the house.
“So, what happened to the milk maid?”
“Don’t, just don’t go there,” Gibbs warned, a small smile playing around his lips. He looked longingly towards the basement door. “God, I’ll be bored before this is over. My head hurts too much to read, and I don’t think watching TV’s a good idea either,” he sighed.
“Wait here,” Tony said before bounding into the hall, rummaging through the closet, looking for the surprise he had hidden at the very back. Pulling out a small wooden box, he returned to the living room to find Gibbs looking rather puzzled.
“What’s that?”
“Something I thought you would like, Jethro. It’s…well…look for yourself.” He handed Gibbs the present, waiting anxiously to see if he liked it.
“It’s beautiful,” Gibbs said, running his fingers across the carvings on the lid.
“Open it, will ya, already!” Tony said, waiving his hands, clearly impatient.
“In my own time, Tony, in my own time,” Gibbs teased, before relenting. He opened the box and was left momentarily stunned, clearly lost for words.
“A wood carving set? Oh, this is…” he cleared his throat, “it’s a perfect gift, Tony, thank you.” He leaned over and kissed him. Studying the content more closely, he admired the beautiful pieces of wood and gave a few ideas as to what he could do with it.
“I saw this thing on Discovery Channel where they made knives. This would make a beautiful handle,” Tony explained, picking up a piece of flame birch and running his fingers over the grain.
“Could you hand me a book about wood carving from the bookshelf over by the fireplace? I’d like to have a look, see what I can do with this. And my glasses!”
“Sure.” Tony got up, very happy to see Gibbs feeling invigorated and clearly pleased with his gift.
“Attaboy,” he mentally patted himself; this was going to be a very good evening.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Ziva tries to find some answers. Abby's making plans :)
Chapter End Notes:
Don't own them, no money being made.
Thanks to all who's giving me feedback, you make this so much fun!
Hilde
Thanks to all who's giving me feedback, you make this so much fun!
Hilde