Tony slept badly after Ducky left, unable to get comfortable. He couldn't lie on his right side because of the throbbing in his hip, nor his left because of his arm and shoulder blade, which also hurt if he lay on his back. His head hurt no matter what. Restless and miserable, sickened by the ball of worry that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in his stomach, he started awake from nightmare after nightmare. The dim light in the room merely created shadows, in which shapes fluttered menacingly, waiting to strike.
The third or fourth time he woke, this time with a cry of pain and alarm, a callused hand brushed his hair back from his forehead.
'Shhh, I got your six, Tony.'
'That you, boss?' Tony asked, shivering as the sweat started to cool on his face and neck.
'Yeah. Been brought to my attention you could use some company,' Gibbs said softly.
'I'll be fine, boss. You don't have to be here,' Tony said, turning his face away. 'Got a guard on the door and everything.'
'I know you'll be fine, DiNozzo,' Gibbs retorted. 'Doesn't mean I should be elsewhere.'
'Ducky told you.'
'Came over and kicked my ass.'
'He shouldn't have,' Tony said, closing his eyes. 'You shouldn't have to...'
'Wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be. One thing at a time, Tony. Right now that's you healing up. Go back to sleep, I'll be here.' Carefully, Gibbs took Tony's hand and held it gently.
'Promise?' Tony whispered.
'Promise.'
True to his word, Gibbs was still there when Tony woke the next morning. In fact, it was his argument with Brian that woke him.
'I need you to leave so that I can see to Tony,' Brian said, sounding exasperated.
'And I said no. I'm staying until he wakes up.'
'Guys?' Tony croaked.
'Good, you're awake,' Brian said briskly. 'Maybe now your boss will let me do my job.'
'Thanks for staying,' Tony said, taking in Gibbs' rumpled appearance. From the shadows under his eyes, he hadn't slept much, if at all. 'You should go home, get a couple hours sleep before you have to go bust chops at the office.'
'Not going into the office today,' Gibbs said. 'Was thinking I'd grab a shower here.'
'I thought you were off suspension?' Tony said, confused, ignoring the nurse who was attempting to check his blood pressure.
'I am,' Gibbs said. 'But Ducky put me straight onto medical leave for at least a week.'
'You? Why?' Tony struggled to sit up, but subsided with a grimace of pain as all his injuries rushed to make themselves felt.
Gibbs found the controls for the bed and raised the head. 'Later.' He avoided looking directly at the younger man.
'Because of the imprint? Because of me? Shit, boss, you should call Ducky. Let me talk to him.' Tony lifted his good arm and would have run his fingers through his hair, but the movement sent a further jolt of pain through his ribs. 'Fuck.'
'Don't.' Gibbs caught his hand. 'Calm down, Tony. We'll talk about it after breakfast.'
Tony subsided. 'Fine, but only if you get some sleep.'
'Deal.' Gibbs glared at Brian. 'Take care of him.'
'That's what I'm trying to do,' Brian sighed. 'The sooner you go, the sooner I can take care of him properly.' He wasn't intimidated in the slightest by the patented Gibbs death-glare. 'Go.'
Gibbs went.
It took close to an hour for Brian to let Gibbs back in the room. Tony was pale, but he was dressed in a clean hospital gown and his shoulder was once again immobilized in a sling, but at least he was off the catheter. The bed had been freshly made around him and on the little wheeled table was a pitcher of water and two trays of breakfast.
'Hey,' Tony said. 'I think we have oatmeal and some fruit salad or toast and some fruit salad. Your pick.'
'I'll have the toast,' Gibbs said. 'Oatmeal always reminds me of wallpaper paste.' He took the chair beside the bed and pulled the table closer to Tony. 'Here.' He handed Tony a spoon.
'Gee, thanks,' Tony said, eyeing the oatmeal with disdain. 'Wallpaper paste sounds so appetizing.' He poked awkwardly at it with the spoon and wrinkled his nose. 'There isn't even any syrup.'
Without saying a word, Gibbs lifted the bowl of fruit salad and carefully poured some of the juice onto the porridge.
Tony stared at him, eyebrows raised. 'Okay, then.'
They ate in silence and when Tony had eaten as much as he could manage and Gibbs had finished the rest, the older man stacked the trays and sat back.
After a minute, Tony said, 'So, we going to talk now?'
Gibbs shrugged.
'What happened with the case?' Tony asked.
'Seems you dated Vorash's daughter a couple months back. She wanted to take things further, was pissed when you turned her down. Guess that's my fault.' Gibbs said.
Tony winced. 'I didn't know.'
'She took her mother's maiden name. They divorced when she was four, wasn't a recent picture of her in his file. And you never got to see his file; Fornell didn't think you'd come across him.'
'Yeah, about that...'
'She was at the restaurant you went to for lunch the day before, spotted you, mouthed off to her boyfriend, who works for-'
'Vorash. Let me guess, he recognised the site foreman that I was having lunch with as one of theirs and called his boss to tell him he was lunching with a fed. God, what a clusterfuck.' Tony grimaced.
'Yeah.'
They sat in awkward silence, until Tony asked, 'So did you really punch Fornell?'
Gibbs looked away, shamefaced. 'Shouldn't have done.'
'Hey, I wish I'd been there to see it,' Tony grinned. 'You think McGee or Abby could get me the footage from the security tapes?'
'If you'd been there to see it, I wouldn't have been so pissed I hit him,' Gibbs said. 'And don't think a fractured skull lets you off headslaps.'
'But boss, if you slap me now, my brain might fall out my ear.' Tony said with his best charming smile.
'That's why I'm saving 'em up for later, DiNozzo.' Gibbs had a glint of triumph in his eye and Tony pouted, secretly relieved the man was sounding more like his normal irascible self. The victory was spoiled, however, by the yawn that forced its way out of Gibbs' mouth.
'Why don't you grab a nap, boss?' Tony asked.
Gibbs glared at him, then yawned again. 'I don't need a nap.'
'Well I do. And since you look like you haven't slept in days and Ducky will have you kicked out of the building if you try to go into work, right now sleeping's about the most productive thing you can do,' Tony pointed out. Irritating but logical, Tony knew it got Gibbs every time. Pointedly, he found the bed controls and lowered himself a little, wriggling until he found a semblance of comfort, then shut his eyes. He heard Gibbs shifting in his chair, then, surprisingly quickly, heard his breathing even out into sleep. Within minutes, Tony had followed him under.
Surprisingly, they both managed to sleep through the breakfast trays being cleared away, but around eleven, the doctor woke Tony to check on his progress and then another nurse wanted to know his lunch choices and then Tim came by with a bag of stuff from his apartment. Gibbs sat in a chair in the corner of the room and glared at everyone. Tony was very glad Tim had the forethought to bring a very large mug of coffee: too much longer without, and Gibbs would turn into that ogre for sure.
'McGoo! Nice of you to swing by,' Tony said cheerily. 'Whatcha bring me?'
Wisely, Tim handed the coffee to Gibbs first, before opening the bag and showing its contents to the bedridden patient. 'Hey boss, Tony. Abby said you wanted some stuff, so...'
'Hitchcock box set? Nice choice. Got anything I can watch it on, or should I just hold the disks up to the light and watch the pretty rainbow reflections?'
'Ass,' Tim said, then shot a worried look at Gibbs. 'I got your portable DVD player. There's a couple of changes of clothes in there too, your razor, that kind of thing. Oh, and I grabbed a few books too. I didn't know what you'd already read, but there's the couple from your nightstand.'
'That's... actually very thoughtful. Thanks,' Tony said, surprised. 'No Playboy?'
Tim glanced over at Gibbs. 'I, uh... I didn't think there was much point,' he said quietly.
For a moment, Tony froze. 'Oh, for- I can still read the damn articles! Tell me, Probie, does the whole damn building know? Did Ducky take out a full-page ad in the Navy Times? You know what, pass me my clothes.'
'What? Why?' Tim clutched the bag.
'I'm going to go find Ducky and kill him. With my cast, if I have to.' Tony struggled to sit up properly, fighting to untuck the blankets with his good hand. 'Ow! Fuck!'
Gibbs moved fast enough that Tim blinked. With one hand he grabbed Tony's wrist and planted his other palm against the center of Tony's chest.
'No.'
'Back off!' Tony said, furious.
'You're staying in bed, Tony. Besides, if anyone gets to kill Ducky, it's me.' Gibbs didn't move. Tony trembled under his hands for a long moment, then sagged back against the pillows and swore.
'Fuck, fuck, fuck.' Red-faced, he stared at the wall, away from Tim. 'What a way to end a fucking career,' he said bitterly. 'Guess you've got a shot at that senior agent position now, McGeek.'
'What the hell are you talking about, Tony?' Gibbs asked, not seeming to realize he still had hold of Tony's wrist.
'Oh, come on, Gibbs! You, me, this whole fucked-up imprint thing? Everyone's going to think I'm taking it up the ass from you and last I checked, the Navy wasn't so hot on that. I know there's the whole don't ask, don't tell thing, but Ducky told! There's no way I can keep my job now.'
'NCIS is a civilian agency, Tony. DADT doesn't apply,' Gibbs said in a low voice that somehow still managed to convey an air of annoyance.
'Yeah? Well it doesn't apply to the police either, but you know what? There are a lot of ways even being suspected of being gay will get you killed on the force.' Tony's laughter contained a shrill note, sounded fake.
Tim cleared his throat. 'Ducky didn't, uh... He didn't tell everyone, just the director and the rest of the team. Me, Ziva, Abby. That's it. And we aren't going to tell anyone. It'd be a shitty thing to do.'
'And he told Vance because...? Come on, Probie! Keep up here,' Tony stared at him, wide-eyed and heading rapidly towards manic. 'Because he's signed the bossman off for at least a week. And the bossman is never off unless he's, you know, actually in hospital or almost dead or recovering from being almost dead. Don't you think people are going to be just a little bit curious?
'Oh, and wait! It gets better! This is going to have to go on Gibbs' medical records. It's going to have to go on my medical records. There's going to be a note somewhere that says, Warning! Can't live without each other! Human Resources is going to have a field day with this. It'll be all round the building by now and all round the entire Yard by the end of the day.'
'That's enough.' Gibbs said firmly. 'Tony, stop. One thing at a time, remember?'
Tony laughed again, only even to his ears, it sounded more like a sob. 'Easy for you to say, boss. Got a house, got a pension, you can always retire again. Me, I have a rental apartment and a collection of nice suits. With this on my file, I'll be lucky to get any job with an agency, even doing filing in Records. Face it, Gibbs. The moment I spilled to Ducky, my career was over. Stupid, stupid, stupid.' He banged his head back against the pillows in frustration.
'I said enough.' Gibbs took a deep breath visibly struggling to hold in his temper. 'Tim, go back to work. I'll see you next week.'
'Okay, sure. I'll, uh... see you later, Tony.' Tim left the bag beside the bed and scuttled out of the room.
Gibbs squeezed Tony's wrist hard, leaning in until only a few inches separated their faces. 'Neither of us is going anywhere, you hear me? We will get through this, Tony, and I'll be damned if I let anyone push you off my team, let alone skulk off into retirement. We've worked together just fine up to now, imprint or no imprint.'
'And what about the next time either of us starts dating?' Tony asked quietly, making no move to free his hand. 'What then? Am I going to flip out over your latest redhead? You keep chasing that happy ending, boss. At some point you'll get lonely enough to try for wife number five. You going to explain to her that you're imprinted on your male subordinate? Or are you just going to blame your limp dick on getting old and have the doc prescribe you viagra?'
With a snarl, Gibbs released Tony and strode to the door. He paused and looked back, his face an expressionless mask over the anger that burned in his eyes.
'With all the women you date, you'd burn through your insurance in a month, DiNozzo. And for the record, I don't need that kind of help.' With that, he was gone.
Unblinking, Tony watched the empty doorway for what seemed like an age, until his eyes burned and he turned his head away. When Brian came in with his next round of meds, Tony took them without question, knowing that while they might ease his physical pain, nothing could take the edge off the hurt inside.
He drifted for a while as the meds worked through his system, paying little attention to the afternoon noise of a busy hospital, not even bothering to retrieve the bag Tim had brought. His thoughts circled, going from his job, to Gibbs, to being imprinted and back to his job again. With each pass, despair cut a little deeper. No matter what Gibbs said, no matter what Tim thought, Tony knew he'd been outed to the whole damn Navy Yard.
Gibbs would get over it; he'd be fine. All he'd have to do would be to glare at anyone who so much as smiled in his general direction and they'd scatter like mice before a cat. He, on the other hand, had no such superpower. Tony knew he was fairly well liked and respected at NCIS. People knew he did a good job, on the whole. But being gay - hell, being gay for Gibbs - changed everything.
The knowing looks, the smirks, the gossip: all of that, he was used to. His constant stream of dates, his stories of his exploits, were designed to give people exactly the right impression. Overgrown frat boy, jock, player. People had a pidgeonhole for him and he happily sat in it and cooed. But now... Now, the knowing looks would hold an edge of contempt, disgust, and the smirks would come from people assuming he was Gibbs' bottom-boy.
He'd seen that kind of thing before, in Philly, in Peoria. He'd never liked it, never joined in, but he'd had no reason to step in and stop it. And cops died. Good cops, because requests for backup took just a little too long to process, because in tricky situations, they got sent in first. Nothing blatant, nothing obvious: gay-bashing was illegal after all and these were the guardians of the law. But subtle could get you killed just as fast. And NCIS wasn't the police. For all it was a civilian federal agency, NCIS was military. It was the navy, the marines, and Tony couldn't be 'out and proud', not when he had to deal with them. It would get him killed and worse, it would probably end up getting other people killed too.
He'd have to resign. As soon as he could get to a computer, he'd email the director. Or he could call, if he could find his phone. Yeah, that'd be quicker.
He turned his head, reached out and fumbled with the drawer of his nightstand. His phone was probably in there somewhere. He swore: the angle was all wrong for him to grab the handle and pull without needing him to sit up properly, which hadn't gone so well last time he'd tried. Who designed these things anyway?
'Want a hand with that?'
Tony's head jerked up. 'Fornell,' he said coldly to the man in the doorway. 'What're you doing here? Not that it isn't nice to have visitors, but you don't strike me as the grapes and flowers type.'
'Just making sure you're back in the land of the living, DiNozzo.'
'I can feel the love already.'
The FBI agent strolled into the room, hands in his pockets, taking in Tony's appearance. 'You've looked better,' he said, coming to stand near the bed. 'Doctor says you're on the mend.'
'Sure, that's me, indestructa-boy. Look, Fornell, what do you want?' He could see the faded remains of a bruise on the man's jawline and felt a surge of satisfaction. That had to have been where Gibbs hit him.
'I'm hurt,' Fornell protested. 'I can't simply want to know how you're doing?'
'Excuse me for being rude, but no. Every time you come around, I seem to end up getting injured, so forgive me if I'm not entirely happy to see you.'
Fornell took the chair the bed. 'I had a meeting this morning to discuss the case. With Director Vance. Agent Gibbs was supposed to be there, but he didn't show.'
Tony regarded the Fed warily. 'And?'
'And I think I owe you an apology for not filling you in on the rest of the investigation.'
After a moment, Tony became aware that his jaw had dropped and snapped his mouth shut with a click of teeth. 'Who are you really? Because you're not the Fornell I've come to know and mistrust so very dearly.'
At that, the Fed smiled. 'You could always come work for me. That way you'd get to know and mistrust me on a much deeper level.'
Prepared to laugh off the latest offer, the automatic rejection somehow died in Tony's throat. 'You know, I always figured you only kept offering me a job to piss Gibbs off,' he said diffidently, picking at the blanket with his good hand.
'That'd be a bonus, sure,' Fornell shrugged. 'But I wouldn't offer if I didn't think you'd make a damn good agent.'
'I, uh...' Tony cleared his throat. 'I'll keep that in mind.'
Fornell's eyes narrowed. 'What's up, Tony?'
'Besides a few fractured bones and a concussion?' Tony asked flippantly.
'Cut the crap. You always turn me down, DiNozzo. I know what you think of me and the FBI, so if you're not telling me to get lost, there has to be something wrong. Talk to me.'
'What is it with everyone wanting to talk?' Tony said. 'Why does there have to be anything more than me being injured and in pain and stuck in a damn hospital bed yet again because an op went south?'
'Maybe because I know you better than that,' Fornell said. 'Just like I know Gibbs. He hates meetings, sure, but he doesn't arbitrarily miss them.'
'Are you sure about that?' Tony dredged up his best inane smile.
Fornell wasn't fooled. 'I suppose you're aware he punched me out? In front of the director. In all the years I've known the man, he's had far greater reason to hit me than one of his agents going off-grid for a couple of hours and up to then, he's never lost it.'
'The man's under a lot of pressure,' Tony said glibly. 'Probably just needs a vacation.'
'As I understand it, he's on one now. Enforced medical leave.'
Tony gave a one-shouldered shrug. 'So?'
'I thought he'd be here,' Fornell said. 'He took your getting hurt very personally. Why is that, Tony?'
Tony remained silent.
'You and Gibbs... I've heard rumors. The way you leap to defend him, the way you take everything he dishes out and come back for more...'
'What're you saying, Fornell?' Tony's eyes were icy and his fidgeting had stilled. Focused on the agent, he was tense, ready for whatever unpleasantness the man was about to hand out.
Fornell leaned in. 'I've heard of imprinting, DiNozzo. I have five imprinted people in my division,' he said quietly.
Tony shivered. 'I don't know what- Wait, you said five?'
'Sacks lost his partner three years back.'
The breath whooshed from Tony's lungs as though he'd been hit. For the second time that afternoon, he found himself gaping at Fornell. After a few moments, he recovered somewhat. 'Well, shit.'
'Yeah.' Fornell poured him some water from the pitcher on the table and sat in silence while Tony sipped at it.
Eventually, Tony regained his composure. 'So, how did you...?'
'I figured you and Gibbs knew. It's one of those interesting little pieces of research that's an open secret in certain areas of law enforcement, such as the Bureau. As far as I'm aware, there aren't any official policies in place, there's no acknowledgement of imprinting, but unofficially, it's been used to help keep pairs from being split up and to try to lower the suicide rate among the bereaved. It's fascinating stuff.' Fornell sat back again. 'Of course, I hadn't counted on you both being quite so stubborn and slow to figure out it applied to you. Most pairs find they can't keep their hands off each other.'
'None so blind as them that will not see,' Tony said softly, staring into his plastic beaker. Abruptly, he drained it and put it back on the table. 'So you're offering me a job because I'll fit right in with your freakshow?'
'That's about the size of it. We might not have a sense of humour, Agent DiNozzo, but we're pretty good on equal opportunities. Think about it.' Fornell stood and put his hand on the drawer handle. 'Want this opened?'
Tony shook his head. 'I'm good, thanks.' He waited until the federal agent was almost out of the door before adding, 'Fornell? I'll keep it in mind.'
Fornell nodded, then left Tony. Alone again, his thoughts returned to their circling, but this time he had a tiny scrap of hope. At least if it came to the worst, he'd still have a job.
Gibbs stayed away for the rest of the day. Ducky called by after work and wasn't too happy to find Tony on his own, but Tony didn't feel up to arguing with him, couldn't fight him over telling Vance, at least, not when it came down to the very bottom line, so he turned his face away and lay there, mute, until Abby bounced through the door and rescued them from the strained silence. Even Ziva swung by, but the weight of her assessing gaze made Tony's skin crawl. In the end, he pretended he was falling asleep, just to get them to leave. And then it was just him and the elephant in the corner of the room, but the elephant was pissed. Trunk upraised, it menaced him with its tusks, lifted a foot to stamp on him, to crush him into bloody paste. He could feel it pressing down on his chest, an impossible weight-
With a hoarse cry, Tony came awake. The pressure on his chest was real; he couldn't breathe. Tiny sips of air slid into the very tops of his lungs, but oh, god, it hurt-
'Get the damn doctor in here!'
That was Gibbs, his bellow familiar and carrying as only an ex-Gunnery Sergeant's voice could do. Running feet heralded the arrival of doctors, nurses, people crowding around his bed, lowering the head, putting a mask over his nose and mouth. His gown was pulled open, a stethoscope pressed to one side of his chest then the other and all the while, behind their words, Tony could feel Gibbs, staring at him, willing him to stay alive. Something pushed at his side, pushed into his side, and then air rushed into his lung and, oh sweet baby Jesus and all the blessed saints, he could breathe again. He gulped in air, feeling his heart rate slow from its frantic pounding, and the voices around him finally made sense.
'Pneumothorax, collapsed lung. Sometimes, especially after trauma to the chest, it can just happen. He should be fine now. We'll keep him on oxygen overnight, but his pulse-ox doesn't look too bad. It shouldn't happen again.'
Tony stared up at the ceiling, blinking every now and again, until one by one, the medical staff left. When they'd gone, Gibbs sat beside him once more. After a while, he took Tony's hand. Tony didn't look at him, but he didn't move his hand away either. And then, between one blink and the next, it was morning.
Gibbs spent most of the next few days in Tony's room. By unspoken agreement, they didn't bring up the subject of imprinting again. The next time Ducky came by to see Tony, Gibbs marched him out into the corridor and had a short heated discussion over his telling the team and the director. Keeping his voice low so that Tony's bat-like hearing had trouble making out the words, Gibbs was furious when he returned, but Ducky looked completely unapologetic, so Tony figured Gibbs had lost that round.
His painful, shuffling trips to the bathroom got a little less painful, a little less shuffling. Gibbs helped without being asked, made sure that Tony was all set before he retreated back into the hospital room to let him get on with his business. It was nothing that he hadn't done for Tony before, nothing that Tony hadn't done for him in turn when circumstances dictated, but at the same time, it was utterly different; new, strange, embarrassing. Tony suspected that they only got through it at all because they didn't talk about it, didn't talk about anything.
They still weren't talking when the hospital discharged him into Gibbs' care and Gibbs took him home and installed him in the guest room. The trip wore him out, but Abby was there to be reassured and thanked for bringing what amounted to a substantial number of his things over from his apartment and McGee was there, looking supremely uncomfortable, because he'd helped, and Ziva had filled the refridgerator with casseroles and lasagne, so he had to thank her too and promise to eat some soon, soon, when he was due his next lot of pain pills.
Ducky was there too, in the background, watching and watching and finally, gently, clearing the rest of the team out of the room, including Gibbs. He shut the door behind him and Tony's ears rang with the sudden silence and he breathed a sigh of relief and finally started to relax.
Gibbs' spare room had white walls and a brown carpet. The furniture wasn't new, but it was solid, the wood rich and gleaming in the evening sunlight that slanted through the window. The sheets were his own, the cotton smooth and cool around him, and the comforter was a deep blue that complemented the frame of the bed. It seemed as though he had every spare pillow Gibbs possessed, in addition to the ones from his own bed. Tony let them cushion his aching bones and tried not to think about the future.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.