"Gibbs?" Tony murmured drowsily, feeling a hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes and blinked in confusion, frowning when he didn't see blue eyes and silver hair.
"Not Gibbs," he said, letting his eyes drift closed again.
"It's time for you to eat dinner," a soft voice said, and he opened his eyes again and smiled at the nurse, who was watching him kindly.
"Oh," he said, fumbling beside him for the button to adjust his bed, and looking around in confusion when the nurse pressed it for him and his bed moved on its own accord.
"You have some visitors waiting in the hallway," she said, "Can I send them in?"
"Okay," Tony said, wrinkling his nose at the tray she pushed in front of him.
"Hey, Tony," Tim said as the nurse made her way out.
Tony looked towards the door and smiled drowsily. "Probies," he said. "Probies, probies, probies."
Tim and Ziva exchanged an amused look and made their way to Tony's bedside.
"We cannot stay very long," Ziva said as she sat elegantly in a chair, "but we wanted to come and see for ourselves how you are doing."
"Is that your dinner?" Tim asked, gesturing towards the tray.
Tony looked at the tray and laughed. "Is it your dinner?" he asked, recognizing even as he said it that the stronger painkillers they'd given him earlier were pretty clearly still in his system. "Seriously, is it?" he added, "You can have it. I don't wanna eat that crap. You guys bring me anything?"
"We were not sure if you would be able to eat outside food," Ziva said apologetically. "How are you feeling?" she asked.
"Hmm," Tony said, poking his left leg absentmindedly. "Still got a bum leg," he said, "and still staring at these ugly walls. Doin' pretty good. Hey, think you guys can break me outta here?"
"I don't think so, Tony," Tim said, "maybe you should eat some of your dinner."
"I'm not too hungry," Tony said. "I feel funny."
"Funny how?" Ziva asked, concern apparent on her face.
"Y'know," Tony said, "like all-all drugged." He wrinkled his nose in distaste, wishing Gibbs had come instead of them. Gibbs wouldn't have to ask; he would know how Tony was feeling. And maybe he'd put his hand on his arm again, or sit close to him, or-
"How's Gibbs?" Tony asked finally, cutting off that train of thought. "Is he being a Debbie Downer?"
"Debbie Downer?" Ziva asked curiously. "I do not believe I have heard that expression before."
"Y'know," Tony explained, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. "Like a Negative Nancy."
Tim snorted. "Yeah, he's pretty pissed," he said. "I haven't seen him this mad in a while. He's trying to get some answers out of Barrett from prison."
"He let you guys come see me?" Tony asked, thinking of how closed off and, well, scary he could be when he was in one of his more foul moods.
"Yes," Ziva said, "he told us in no uncertain terms that we were to stop here on our way back to base. We wanted to stop anyway, of course, but he wanted us to check in with you and make sure you were doing alright."
"That's nice of him," Tony said, smiling.
"Yes, quite, perhaps he is not such a-a Mad Mary after all," she said.
Tony laughed. "Nice try, Ziva."
Ziva smiled. She didn't mind if the term was off; she had accomplished her goal nonetheless.
"Hey, Tony," Tim said, "you really should eat dinner. Gibbs will kill us if he finds out you didn't eat."
Tony sighed, tugging his tray of food closer and inspecting it. "This looks pretty gross," he commented. "Why don't you just tell Gibbs I ate it and it can be our little secret?"
"And what about when he finally does come to visit you and interrogates the nurses and finds out the truth?" Ziva asked. "It does not look that bad, Tony. I thought you liked pasta."
"This isn't pasta," Tony said, shaking his head. "This is...something else."
"Tony," Ziva said warningly, "would you like me to accidentally throw your Mighty Mouse stapler away? Or perhaps accidentally destroy your stash of magazines?"
"You wouldn't!" Tony said.
Ziva smirked at him. "No?" she said, raising one eyebrow.
Tony huffed and reached out to his tray. He was sort of hungry, after all. "Only so Gibbs doesn't kill you," he said. "Or me."
He recognized the feeling of the painkillers as the reason his head felt floaty and unattached, and the reason his mouth seemed to be working of its own accord, but even through the haze of medication, thoughts of his earlier discussion with the doctor began to swirl through his mind again. He managed a few bites of pasta before dropping his fork down and pushing the tray away.
"There, now you can tell Gibbs I ate," he said, already reaching for the button to move his bed back down, but his hand was intercepted by Ziva.
"Stupid ninja," he muttered, giving her a dark look.
"Tony, you must eat more than that," she said.
"That's okay," Tony said, "I'm full." He let his right hand twist into his bedsheets, and his left poked at his leg again, a habit he couldn't seem to stop, hoping that maybe this time, he would be able to actually feel the pokes.
"Stop that," Ziva said, reaching out and holding onto his left hand. Tony swallowed thickly when she grabbed his hand, and pulled it away from her. He was beginning to feel overwhelmed, talking to Ziva and McGee like everything was normal when everything was most certainly not.
It was strange, he thought, that the doctors had diagnosed him with a disease, and yet everything continued on as it was before; he was lying in a hospital bed, feeling no different than the minutes before he was diagnosed, and Ziva and Tim were harassing him as usual, and the food still sucked, and everything was pretty much the same - only his mind wouldn't stop spinning and he felt like everything was spiraling out of control fast.
"Tony," Ziva said, "are you alright?"
"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Tony replied, pasting on what he hoped was a casual grin.
"I can think of a few reasons," McGee said.
Tony glared at him. "Shut up, Probie," he said.
Ziva's phone rang, and she pulled it out. "Gibbs," she explained, before opening the phone and answering it. Almost immediately, she held it out to Tony.
"Hi Gibbs," Tony said, relaxing against his pillow.
"You eat dinner?" Gibbs asked gruffly.
"Yeah, I ate," Tony replied, clutching the phone and holding it tight against his ear.
"What, two bites?" Gibbs asked.
Tony scowled. "How do you do that?" he asked.
"Not too hard, DiNozzo, you're pretty predictable," Gibbs replied. "You doin' okay?"
"Yeah, Boss, I'm fine," Tony said. "The doctor gave me some of the good stuff."
"And you took it?" Gibbs asked.
"In the IV," Tony explained. "I'm kinda tired. Are you coming back, Boss?" He didn't mean for his voice to come out so, well, needy, and he ignored the way Ziva and McGee exchanged concerned glances when they heard him ask.
"Yeah, I'm coming back, Tony," Gibbs said. "I just don't know when. This case is fucked up and going nowhere. I need Ziva and McGee here, now."
"Oh," Tony said, "Okay. I wish I could help."
"Don't worry about it," Gibbs said. "You just rest and get better."
"Okay," Tony said again, closing his eyes and swallowing thickly.
"Hey, Tony," Gibbs said.
"Yeah?" Tony replied, his voice hopeful and constricted and just on the verge of breaking, wishing that McGee and Ziva were not watching him have this conversation.
"Remember what I said," Gibbs told him, voice gruff. "We'll get through this. You're on my team, no matter what, and as soon as you're out of the hospital, you're back here with me, got it?"
"Got it, Boss," Tony said, yawning widely, insanely and desperately relieved to hear Gibbs reassure him.
"You need anything when I come by later?" Gibbs asked.
"I miss your blanket," Tony said drowsily.
"What blanket?" Gibbs asked, thrown off and confused.
"You know," Tony said, "that handmade green one. I like it."
Gibbs sighed. "Hospital won't let you use your own blanket, Tony. Listen, I gotta go. Tell Ziva and McGee to come back here, and you get some rest."
"Okay, Boss," Tony said. "I will. Watch your six," he said.
"Yeah," he said. "And Tony, eat something."
"Okay," Tony said, even though he was pretty sure he wouldn't.
Gibbs' sigh came through loud and clear. "I'll try to sneak you in something edible when I come," he conceded.
"Thanks, Boss, you're the best," Tony said, feeling his grip on the phone begin to loosen. He smiled. "Maybe we can watch-"
"We are not watching Titanic and you are never mentioning that again," Gibbs said. He sounded pissed.
Tony sighed. "Don't have to get so mad, Boss. Don't have to be such a-such a Mad Mary all the time." He gave a laugh that was really more of a giggle than anything else and he knew without looking that Ziva was smiling.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Gibbs asked.
Tony laughed again. "Nothing," Tony said. "Hey, Boss, I think I'm gonna go to sleep now," he said, feeling his eyelids grow heavy.
"Tell Ziva and McGee to come back here," Gibbs said.
"Ziva, McGee, come back here," Tony said to Gibbs.
"Christ," Gibbs said. Tony could imagine him rubbing a hand over his eyebrows.
"Blasphemy," Tony accused with a yawn.
"Okay, Tony, give Ziva the phone," Gibbs said.
"Why do I have to give it to Ziva?" Tony complained. "You-"
"Because it's hers, Tony. Go to sleep. I'll see you later," Gibbs said. He sounded impatient, and Tony knew that tone, even through his sleepy, drug-addled brain.
"Okay," Tony said, "g'night, Boss."
"Goodnight, Tony," Gibbs said, and Tony smiled, because it was that gentle voice that he'd been hearing more of lately, and he let his eyelids droop as he lowered the phone and held it out towards Ziva, who just barely caught it before it slipped from his fingers.
Tony vaguely heard Ziva give Gibbs quick one-word responses as he fell asleep, and he tried to say thank you when he felt his bed slip back down to the flat position, but all that came out was a tired sigh, and he fell asleep just as McGee squeezed his shoulder on the way out.
--
Tony woke to the smell of coffee, and not hospital coffee - real coffee, hot and strong; just the way Gibbs liked it.
"Gibbs?" he murmured and opened his eyes, squinting in the hazy morning light filtering in through the window of his hospital room. Gibbs was sitting on the edge of his bed, body surrounded by grey morning light, making him look almost ethereal. He looked tired; his posture was more of a slump than his usual Marine-straight back, but when he glanced at Tony, his eyes crinkled and he gave a slight smile.
"How ya doin', Tony?" he asked.
With a start, Tony realized that he could actually feel Gibbs leaning against his left leg, even if it was rather tingly, but that was much better than what he'd been feeling the day before.
"Think my leg's getting better," Tony managed through a yawn.
"That's good," Gibbs said, "that's real good." He took a sip of his coffee, and even through his early morning confusion, Tony felt like something was off about Gibbs. He was being, well, nice, and that was never a good sign.
"How's the case?" Tony asked, shifting a bit to get more comfortable.
Gibbs sighed, running a hand through his short hair. "Not too good," he said.
Before he could even think to do differently, Tony's hand shot out and wrapped itself around Gibbs' forearm, and his thumb rubbed back and forth gently. Gibbs looked down in surprise, and Tony suddenly felt embarrassed, but he pushed that down; he could always claim that he was still on painkillers. Gibbs had been there for him in a way no one else had ever been the past few days, and he would do his best to help him in return.
"Tell me," Tony said.
"Tony, you have more to worry about than this," Gibbs said, and Tony liked how rather than pulling his arm away, he leaned closer.
Tony shook his head. "I have nothing to do but stare at the walls," he said. "I'm going crazy. Tell me about it."
Gibbs sighed. "Got three dead bodies," he said. "Miller and Pelham-remember 'em?" Tony nodded quickly, and Gibbs took a sip of coffee using his free hand. "The other was a 24-year old woman from Lisa Wooster's squad. Amanda Turner. They were close friends."
"What about Brian Parker?" Tony asked.
Gibbs gave a slight quirk of his lips that was almost a smile. "First person we thought of, too," he said. Anything even vaguely resembling a smile vanished quickly, though, as he continued. "Got a solid alibi. He was in New York last week visiting family - left a few hours after we released him. He's got receipts, credit card purchases, and family members to back him up."
Tony's brow furrowed. "He could still be involved," he said.
"Yeah," Gibbs said, "but we've got nothing to prove it and no way to connect him to the murders."
"Maybe a drug dealer Parker owed?" Tony asked. "Somebody higher up than Barrett?"
Gibbs sighed again. "Yeah," he said, "that's what Parker tried to tell us. His flight got in late last night-we got him at the airport."
"You get any sleep?" Tony asked.
"You my mother now, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked with a snort.
"You were up all night with me," Tony said with a frown, "then you were here most of the day, then you went to work and stayed there all day and night-you need to sleep."
"Caught a nap before I came here," Gibbs said. "I'll go to sleep when we get this dirtbag."
"Just-just watch your six, Boss," Tony said. "I'm not there to watch it for you."
"Hey," Gibbs said, "you're where you need to be right now, Tony." He set his now-empty coffee down on the table near Tony's bed, and covered Tony's hand with his own. "You just get better," he said, before standing up and stretching, Tony's hand falling back down to the bed and his leg feeling oddly cold without Gibbs sitting so close.
"Brought you a bagel," Gibbs said, gesturing towards a paper bag on the table near Tony's bed.
"That's what I'm talking about!" Tony said in excitement, recognizing the bag to be from his favorite deli.
Gibbs snorted, picking up the bag and holding it out to Tony, who took it eagerly.
"What time is it, Boss?" he asked, opening up the bag and grinning at the sight of fluffy cream cheese poking out of his usual everything bagel. It was a lot easier to feel normal with Gibbs here, because even with all of the strange and sometimes scary thoughts flooding his brain, Gibbs brought a sense of comfort that seemed to override all of them.
"Early," Gibbs said. "Too early. But I gotta head back to work," he added.
"How early's too early?" Tony asked, pulling the bagel out and licking some stray cream cheese off of his thumb.
"0500," Gibbs said.
"That is early," Tony said, surprised. "It feels later to me. I've been sleeping for a long time." He took a bite of the bagel, eyes closing in happiness, because the terrible food they'd been feeding him at the hospital was nothing compared to the bagel Gibbs brought.
"You been sleeping since McGee and Ziva left yesterday?" Gibbs asked, watching him carefully.
Tony nodded, glancing over at Gibbs as he took another bite of the bagel. "Yeah," he said around a mouthful of food.
"Good," Gibbs said. "Get some more rest today so you can come home," he added.
Tony felt an odd twist in his chest at that; the particular phrasing felt warm and familiar, and he couldn't help but wonder what all of this was exactly, this weird thing between him and Gibbs, because something seemed to have shifted and changed without him realizing it.
"And if you bring up the goddamn Titanic one more time, I'll kick your ass so hard you'll be right back in here," Gibbs added threateningly.
Tony was surprised for a moment, before his lips stretched into a wide grin and he fought off a chuckle he was sure Gibbs wouldn't like.
Or maybe not, he thought.
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