Tony woke with a groan, bringing his hands up to rub his forehead, grimacing at the pain in his head.
"Tony?"
The voice was soft and familiar, and Tony knew that voice - but so many of his thoughts were focused on the pain in his head that he couldn't bring himself to reply.
"Tony," she repeated, her voice laced with sympathy this time, and she carefully reached out and ran her fingers through his hair as she pressed the nurse's call button with her other hand.
"Tony, are you alright?" she said.
Tony kept one hand over his eyes, his face twisted with pain, and turned his head toward her. He cracked one eye open and squinted against the lights above his head as he peeked out at her from underneath his fingers.
"Ziva," he managed, before gasping at the bright lights and squeezing his eyes closed again.
"Tony, what is wrong?" she asked, smoothing his hair back away from his forehead, trying to keep her voice calm.
"H-Headache," Tony managed, and he covered his face completely with his hands, wishing Gibbs were there, wanting to feel Gibbs' hands in his hair, wanting Gibbs to reassure him and sit on the edge of his bed and make him feel better, because the pain in his head was acute and too much, and he felt his breath speeding up.
Ziva continued to gently run her fingers through his hair, and he could hear her murmuring soft, soothing sounds; sounds he was pretty sure were not in English. When the nurse came in and Ziva's voice stopped, he was surprised by how much he wished she would continue.
He heard Ziva speak to the nurse, and then the nurse was talking to him, asking him to move his hands away, and he shook his head minutely, keeping his hands where they were.
"Tony," Ziva said, her voice gentle, her hands covering his. "Tony, you must let the nurse look at you."
He allowed Ziva to pull his hands away, and he didn't pull away when she kept her hand wrapped tight around his.
"Tony," the nurse said, "I need you to open your eyes."
"Light," Tony managed. He heard the nurse move, and then he heard the click of a light switch, and so he cautiously opened his eyes, relieved to find that the room was much dimmer than before. The nurse peered into his eyes and shone a light in them, to which Tony flinched away and Ziva squeezed his hand.
"On a scale of one to ten, one being-"
"Ten," Tony interrupted, closing his eyes again.
"I'll speak to the doctor," the nurse said sympathetically, "and we'll get you some medicine. I'll be right back."
Tony closed his eyes, and Ziva kept a tight hold on his hand. Her hand was much smaller than Gibbs', but still strong and warm, and he squeezed her hand as he swallowed thickly, wanting nothing more than an end to the pain. His thoughts were spinning - thoughts of his disease, and Brian Parker, and Gibbs, and his stupid disease, and Gibbs, and he brought his hand back up over his eyes when he felt tears leaking out the corners, trailing hot paths down his temples and pooling on his pillow. He tried desperately to keep a handle on his emotions, but he couldn't, and he wished anyone were here besides Ziva, because she was a fucking Mossad officer, and she could probably deal with this easily, and here he was crying-
And then his breath was hitching and it was all he could do to not outright sob, and to his embarrassment, Ziva leaned forward and stroked his hair again, and then she was pressing a soft kiss onto his forehead, and he swallowed hard, reining in his emotions as best he could.
"It is alright, Tony," Ziva said, "It is alright. You will be alright." Her voice was soft, almost a whisper, and he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes and look at her - it was all too much. "You must relax," she continued, leaning back a bit to give him space as her thumb stroked over his temple, and he scrubbed a hand over his eyes and let his hand fall back to his side.
He felt raw, and he hated it. He wanted Gibbs. He wanted home.
He knew, though, that he couldn't get those things, so he sighed, his breath still shaky, and opened his eyes in determination to squint blearily at the dimly lit ceiling and try to push the pain away. After a moment of silence, he screwed up his courage and turned to glance at Ziva. He was surprised to see the emotion on her normally closed off face; her brows were furrowed in genuine concern, and her eyes seemed too bright.
"'m sorry," he mumbled, keeping his voice low to avoid worsening his headache.
"No, Tony," Ziva said, "You have no reason to apologize."
Before he could say anything, the nurse entered again and as she adjusted his IV, Tony let his eyes fall shut, his hand warmed by Ziva's fingers and the creases of pain on his face slowly smoothing into sleep.
--
The next time Tony woke, feeling groggy and confused (but headache free), he turned bleary eyes towards the two people sitting at his bedside.
As soon as his eyes opened, Abby jumped out of her chair, sat on the edge of his bed, and leaned down to hug him. Tight.
"Can't breathe," Tony said, and she instantly let go and sat back, looking at him nervously and twirling a pigtail.
"Oh my God, Tony, I'm so sorry!" she said, then bit her lip and gave herself a headslap. "That's what Gibbs would do, right? Oh my God, Tony, are you okay?"
Tony gave her a half-smile. "Gibbs doesn't give you headslaps," he mumbled.
"You're right," Abby said, brow furrowed. "He doesn't. He kisses me instead. I don't think I can kiss my own cheek."
Tony smiled, thinking of Gibbs kissing him, knowing that the little pecks on the cheek Abby got were nothing compared to what he got. He felt his smile grow, and a laugh (he refused to call it a giggle) escaped him.
"Ooh, Tony," Abby said, "you must be on something good."
"How are you doing, Tony?" Ziva interrupted before he could reply, ignoring the annoyed look Abby shot at her before swiveling her own head towards Tony to hear his reply. Tony studiously ignored the vague embarrassment that clung to him when he remembered his earlier moments of weakness in front of Ziva and smiled at her.
"I'm good," Tony said as Abby took his hand and wove their fingers together. "Got two lovely ladies in my bed," he added, winking at Abby.
"In case you have not noticed, I am sitting beside your bed, not in it," Ziva pointed out.
"Semantics," Tony mumbled, pouting at her. She smiled, and he felt some of his earlier embarrassment slip away.
"Hey," Tony said, tugging Abby's hand. "You done with the case?"
Abby shook her head. "No, not yet, but my babies are running tests and there's not really anything for me to do right now. I've got a couple hours of waiting, and Bossman said I could come see you," she said.
"Oh," Tony said, disappointed. "Did he interrogate Parker?"
Abby nodded. "Yeah," she said, "but he thinks he's hiding something."
"What'd he say?" Tony asked, fighting a yawn.
Abby shook her head. "Not too much, but don't you worry about it," she said. "You're in the hospital. You need to rest."
Tony frowned. "I want to know," he complained. He was tired, after all, and he wanted to go home, and until Gibbs was done with that asshole, he was stuck here without him.
"I know," Abby said, "but he really hasn't said much of anything yet."
Tony sighed. "Mean," he said.
"I'm mean?" Abby asked.
Tony shrugged, feeling a smile tug at his lips. "Dunno," he said. "I guess."
"Tony," Ziva said, watching him intently in favor of listening to the conversation as she had been doing since he woke up. "Do you still have a headache?"
"Oh my God," Abby interrupted, squeezing his hand. "You had a headache? Are you okay?"
Even with the painkillers, Tony felt relieved that Ziva hadn't told Abby about his earlier display and he smiled at her. "I'm okay, Ziiiva," he said, stretching out her name and grinning when she rolled her eyes at him.
"The drugs are helping, then?" Ziva asked.
"Mmhmm," Tony said.
"I am glad," Ziva said, giving him a small, genuine smile.
Abby suddenly leaned forward and hugged him again, this time far more gently. "I never should have left," Abby said, her voice muffled into his shoulder. "I should've stayed with you."
"Abs," Tony said, "you have a job." He paused for a moment, feeling her hair tickle against his chin, and laughed. "Like feathers," he said.
"What?" Abby said, pulling away from him. He frowned and tugged her back down, and she was happy to hug him again. "What's like feathers?" she asked.
"Tickling," Tony explained, bringing a hand up to tug at her pigtail. "You know."
He yawned, turning his head away from her to avoid getting hair in his mouth, and then turned back. He felt tired, so he let his arms relax a bit, and she sat up, just enough to lean over him and run a hand over his face.
"Tony," she said, "you'll come back soon, right?"
"I'll come back when Gibbs comes to get me," he said drowsily. "then we'll go home." He smiled at her, and cursed the painkillers because there were certain things he didn't want to say.
"Home to Gibbs' house?" Abby asked, and he wasn't sure he liked the smile on her face.
"Mmhmm," he said. "Hey, new collar?"
Abby grinned at him and brought a hand up to tug at it. "Yeah!" she said. "Do you like it?"
"You know it," Tony mumbled around a yawn, blearily admiring the tiny red beads surrounding each spike.
"Abby," Ziva said, and she sounded apologetic, "it is 2100 hours."
"No it isn't!" Abby said. "It can't be."
Ziva held up her cell phone with the time displayed on the screen, and Abby sighed and leaned down to kiss Tony on the cheek. "I have to go back to work."
"You gonna work all night?" Tony asked, winding a hand into her shirt and keeping it there.
"If I have to," Abby said with a shrug. "We're gonna get these assholes."
Tony frowned, still holding onto her shirt, and swallowed nervously. "Can you..." He paused, thinking for a moment, and then shook his head. "Never mind."
"Can I what?" Abby asked gently.
"Nothing," Tony said, but he kept clutching her shirt so she couldn't leave.
"Really, Tony, what is it? I'll do it," she said.
"Make sure Gibbs takes a break," Tony finally said, words coming out in a rush, cursing the painkillers because he knew he wouldn't say that otherwise. "Okay? Because I usually-"
Abby hugged him again, just on the verge of too tight. "I will," she said, "don't worry about it. You just get better."
Tony frowned, thinking - this is a disease; I can't get better - and he was beginning to feel overwhelmed again, so he gave her a half-hearted squeeze and didn't say anything.
"I'll come back as soon as I can, okay?" Abby said, sitting up and extracting herself from his arms.
"Okay," Tony said as he yawned again. "Abs, you're the best," he mumbled, and he ignored the sounds Ziva's muffled laughter. "I'm gonna sleep now," he added. "You make Gibbs sleep. Maybe you should give 'im Bert." And before he could say anything else, or hear their replies, he was fast asleep.
--
Tony had many visitors over the next couple of days: Ducky, Abby, even Palmer, and McGee, when he took over Ziva's position to allow her time to rest. He hadn't had any more breakdowns like he'd had with Ziva, but it was getting harder and harder to just be okay, and he couldn't stop thinking about Gibbs, and his lips, and every time he thought about it, he got more and more insecure. He knew that Gibbs had a job to do, but he'd hoped maybe he'd come by for a while, just to poke his head in, or maybe talk to him on the phone, or something.
He was almost wondering if he'd imagined the whole thing, and it really didn't help that he didn't have a single second to himself. Most of the time, he pretended to sleep so that he didn't have to talk to whoever was sitting near his bed because he was sick of everyone staring at him and poking at him, and the medicine being pumped into his system was making him edgy, and he felt tired all the time - although, whether that was due to the medicine or the disease, he wasn't sure.
Doctor Foss told him he'd be able to go home in the next day or so, since his leg was already doing much better, as long as he would rest and take his medicine at home. Tony was looking forward to that, but he felt unsure since he hadn't seen Gibbs. What if Gibbs was going to send him back to his apartment? What if Gibbs was going to act like nothing happened? What if-
"I know you are not sleeping."
Tony sighed and turned towards Ziva. "McGee never notices things like that," he complained.
"I am most certainly not McGee," Ziva said. She sound offended.
Tony didn't say anything, but did allow one corner of his mouth to turn up in a small smile.
"Tony, do you wish to talk about it?" Ziva asked after a moment.
"About what?" Tony asked. "Nothing to talk about."
Ziva sighed and rolled her eyes. "No?"
"No," Tony said firmly.
Suddenly the door swung open, and Ziva's hand automatically went to her hip as she turned towards the door, pulling her gun quickly, but lowering it when Gibbs staggered in. He looked exhausted.
"Protection detail's over," Gibbs said. "Out."
Ziva looked confused for a moment, but she could see that Gibbs was serious, and she nodded, patting Tony's shoulder on her way out.
Gibbs pulled a chair as close to Tony's bed as it could possibly get, sat down heavily, rested his head against Tony's hip, and swung his arm over Tony's waist. Before Tony could even say hello, he was fast asleep.
A lot of things went through Tony's mind - how it wasn't fair, because he wanted to know what happened on the case, and how Gibbs was such a bastard he couldn't even say hello, and how the stupid, stubborn idiot obviously hadn't been resting during the case - but mostly, he felt overwhelmingly relieved to see him so close by, to feel him leaning against him, to see his gray hair, to know that it was him, Tony, that Gibbs trusted enough to visit the second the case was over, before he even slept.
Tony smiled and tangled his fingers into Gibbs' hair. Stupid bastard, he thought fondly. And then, a moment later, his smile grew, and he felt some of his insecurities weaken.
My stupid bastard.
--
Tony must've fallen asleep, because when he woke, Gibbs was sitting in the chair next to his bed, squinting at a newspaper and drinking coffee.
"Hey Boss," Tony mumbled, yawning and running a hand over his face as he pushed his bed up to a sitting position. Gibbs immediately tossed the paper onto the chair next to him and set his coffee down.
"Tony," he said, and it looked like he wanted to say more, to do more, but he stayed in his chair and watched him cautiously.
"Close the case?" Tony asked.
"Yeah," Gibbs said. "We did."
"What happened?" Tony asked, feeling a tiny bit disappointed to know that the team could finish it off without his help, and a little more disappointed that Gibbs was sitting so far away.
Gibbs sighed. "Parker had more drug debts than Miller," he said. "He was dealing with a drug dealer above Barrett, and Miller had no idea. Parker was buying coke and ecstasy." He paused, took a sip of coffee, and continued.
"Parker owed his coke dealer - Adam DiMarco - a grand. When DiMarco found out Miller had debts of his own, he told Barrett he should take action. Blackmailed him into killing Lisa Wooster."
"Why?" Tony asked. "To scare Parker?"
Gibbs nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Then, when Parker still didn't pay up, DiMarco got enthusiastic."
"And after we took Barrett in, he killed Miller, Pelham, and that girl," Tony said.
"Amanda Turner," Gibbs confirmed with a nod. "Wooster's friend. Parker'd been seeing her."
Tony let out a whoosh of air. "That's fucked up," he said.
"Yeah," Gibbs said with a snort. "We got Parker on possession and assaulting a federal agent. Got DiMarco on all three murders."
"Parker said you got his friends killed," Tony said.
Gibbs snorted. "Parker's a crazy son of a bitch," he replied.
"Yeah," Tony said. "Guess so."
"Hey," Gibbs said after a moment, causing Tony to look in his direction questioningly.
"How are you doing?"
When Gibbs asked him, it wasn't the same as when McGee or Ziva or Ducky or Abby asked. When Gibbs asked, Tony felt a strange compulsion to tell him the truth, to just let it all come rushing out, because he knew Gibbs genuinely wanted to know, and that whatever Tony said, Gibbs would take it in stride, and not just look at him with pity or awkwardness.
But instead of telling the truth, Tony shrugged. "Okay," he said, and from the way Gibbs sighed, he knew he wasn't fooling him.
"Thought you'd say that," Gibbs said.
"Not much else to say," Tony replied, eyes trained on a particularly interesting spot on his blanket.
Gibbs was quiet for a moment, and Tony felt all of his insecurities come flooding back; after all, Gibbs was so far away, and Tony was just lying around uselessly in a hospital bed - why would Gibbs want anything to do with him?
Finally, Gibbs spoke. "Was worried about you," he said, and Tony closed his eyes and turned his head away, his fingers tightening on his blanket. For Gibbs to admit that he was worried - that was huge. But still, he felt fear gripping at him. What he had with Gibbs - kissing and strange fluttery sensations aside - was something he'd never had with anyone else. Ever.
Because aside from any role Gibbs might've had in his life - mentor, boss, friend, anything - he was someone Tony knew that he could trust with his life and more. He knew Gibbs had his six on a crime scene, and he knew Gibbs would back him up at work, but he also knew that he could trust Gibbs with his thoughts, his secrets (and he had plenty), his worries...and the thought of losing that because of his fucking hormones was terrifying. Neither of them had very good track records with relationships, after all. Tony swallowed thickly and kept his face turned away from Gibbs. God, he was terrified. Was he going to lose Gibbs on top of his health? Was Gibbs going to toss him aside as soon as he realized Tony was useless?
"Hey," Gibbs said again, and he sounded concerned, so Tony turned his head and gave him a watery smile.
"No reason to worry about me," he said, alarmed that his voice sounded much gruffer than he'd thought it would sound. Dammit, he was a fantastic undercover agent - shouldn't this be easier?
But no, of course not - fooling Gibbs was near impossible.
Tony watched as Gibbs sighed, and stared, no scrutinized him, and he looked away, knowing what Gibbs was seeing - he was seeing the bags under his eyes, the weakness, the exhaustion, the fear - and he swallowed thickly. He heard Gibbs stand and he thought - this is it, he's leaving, he's figured it out - but then Gibbs was sitting on the edge of his bed.
"I've been an NCIS agent a long time," Gibbs finally said.
Oh God, Tony thought, is he firing me? He twisted his hands further into his sheets, his knuckles turning white.
"Nothing I love more than catching dirtbags," he continued. "Knowing one more asshole is off the streets...one more family is protected..."
Gibbs paused for a moment, and Tony wondered if he was thinking about Shannon and Kelly, and he turned his head marginally. Not enough to be actually looking at Gibbs, but enough that he could see him out of the corner of his eye.
"When I get a call that we have a case, I'm ready for it before I hang up the phone," Gibbs said. "No matter what's going on, work comes first."
Oh God, he never talks this much, he isfiring me, and he's not gonna let me stay with him anymore and I'm getting in his way, Tony thought frantically, biting his lip.
"But when dispatch called over the weekend, when I was in here with you, and they told me I had three murders, do you know what I thought?"
Gibbs didn't say anything, and Tony could feel him looking at him, expecting a response, so he shrugged, not trusting himself to speak.
"I thought, 'I don't give a shit,'" Gibbs said. "You know why?"
Again, Tony shrugged, his emotions churning and raging and his head starting to pound with stress.
"Because," Gibbs said, and his voice was gentle, and he sounded on the verge of embarrassed, "I wanted to stay with you. I needed to stay with you, you understand that, Tony?"
Tony looked at him in surprise - he definitely wasn't expecting the conversation to go in that direction.
"But I couldn't," Gibbs said, "and you understand that, too. Guess that's one thing about you that's better than my ex-wives already."
Tony's jaw dropped in disbelief - what?! - and Gibbs chuckled and reached out, his fingers carding through the short hair at Tony's temple, and Tony couldn't help it - he closed his eyes in relief and leaned into the touch, feeling his shoulders relax and his breath come a little easier and his lips curve just the tiniest bit.
Gibbs leaned forward and Tony could feel how close he was without opening his eyes. He sighed, and swallowed, and hoped - and then Gibbs was kissing him gently, his lips chapped and dry and perfect.
"I wanted to stay," Gibbs said as he pulled away, his voice soft and warm against Tony's mouth.
Tony's eyes drifted open and found Gibbs', and he saw a sincerity and determination in them that was almost frightening in its intensity.
"It's okay," Tony said.
"It's not," Gibbs said. "You needed me and I left." He sounded like he was punishing himself for it, like he'd been punishing himself since it happened, and Tony hated it.
"Gibbs," Tony said, feeling his heart clench. "It's okay. I understand. I'm not...fragile," he added.
Gibbs frowned. "Never said you were," he said. "But it's okay to need somebody once in a while."
Tony's eyebrows shot up. "You're telling me that?" he said. "That's like me saying watching movies will rot your brain."
Gibbs chuckled and gave Tony the lightest of headslaps - really, it was more of a caress.
"Hey Gibbs?" Tony said, feeling a strange sense of courage inside of him that he thought he should act on before it slipped away.
"Yeah," Gibbs said, his fingers still in Tony's hair.
Tony swallowed, and searched Gibbs' eyes for a moment. He still saw that strange and slightly unsettling sincerity, and that was enough for him. "What are we doing?" Tony asked, his voice softer than he'd intended.
Gibbs sighed, looking away for a moment, his eyes trained on the wall behind Tony's bed. "Beats me," he finally said, letting his eyes slide back to Tony's face.
"Oh," Tony said, leaning away from his hands for a moment, wondering if maybe he'd misunderstood something.
"Hey," Gibbs said, nudging Tony's head back towards his hand. "Doesn't mean I'm not serious about this," he said. "About you," he clarified.
"Oh," Tony said again, confused, but a little more hopeful this time.
"Hell, Tony," Gibbs said, and he sounded a little impatient. "I wouldn't mess around with something like this."
"You do have three ex-wives," Tony risked saying.
Gibbs gave him that strange caress of a headslap again. "And you have a hell of a lot more than three ex-girlfriends," he said.
"Touché," Tony said, and gave him a hesitant grin.
Gibbs snorted, and his fingers were running over the back of Tony's head, and while Tony couldn't deny how amazing that felt, he still wanted to know what the hell was going on.
"But, what about Rule 12?" Tony finally asked, looking at Gibbs nervously.
"What exactly does Rule 12 say, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, returning Tony's gaze with a surprising amount of patience.
"Never date a coworker," Tony recited automatically, and then blanched, his next words coming out a whisper. "You're really firing-"
"No," Gibbs said emphatically. "Don't be a dumbass, DiNozzo," and that time, the headslap he gave was real - still not quite full-force, but definitely real. "It says don't date your coworkers. We're not dating," he said, and he sounded so pissy that Tony couldn't help but grin for a moment, his shoulders sagging as relief flooded him.
"Well, what are we doing?" Tony asked.
Gibbs shrugged. "Beats me."
"I think I understand why you have three ex-wives," Tony said after a pause, and Gibbs laughed and leaned forward and kissed him again, and Tony's head felt like it was going to fly away, off of his body, because surely he was dreaming, and he wondered if he would ever get used to this.
"What do you think we're doing?" Gibbs asked when he pulled away, sounding genuinely curious.
Tony managed to take his mind off of the proximity of Gibbs' body and he thought for a moment, and then looked at Gibbs with a smirk. "Beats me," he teased, throwing in a careless shrug for good measure.
Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Whatever we're doing," he said, "I'm serious about it. Got that?"
Tony nodded. "Yeah, Boss, I got it. Me too."
"As in, 'seeing no one else' serious," Gibbs clarified.
Tony rolled his eyes. "Oh, that's what you meant? Because I noticed a lot of hot chicks waiting in line to date the guy who could go blind at any fucking second at the incurable diseases anonymous meeting-"
"Hey," Gibbs said sharply, taking Tony's chin in his hand and looking him straight in the eye, suddenly serious and foreboding. "Don't talk like that."
"Like what?" Tony asked, suddenly annoyed. "Like the truth?"
"Tony," Gibbs said, and he sounded so sympathetic that Tony had a sudden urge to push him away and go hide in the corner. Instead, he batted Gibbs' hand away from his hair and covered his face with his own hand, feeling pressure building behind his eyes and about a million different emotions suddenly crashing into him at once, and he wondered how the hell he went from having some kind of vaguely flirty discussion with Gibbs to wanting to cry, but he hated it.
He bit his lip, holding his breath, trying to keep it at bay, but God, it was just so much at once he wasn't sure he could handle it, and when Gibbs reached out and very gently took hold of his hand, nudging it away from his face, he felt his nose scrunch up and his lips press together and he did his best to stop it but he couldn't, and then before the choked sob could even get out of his throat, Gibbs' arms were around him, holding him tight and warm and secure and safe, and he pressed his face into Gibbs' neck, doing his best to keep himself from sobbing and failing.
One of Gibbs' hands was threading through the short hairs on the back of his head, and the other was running up and down his back, warm and strong.
"I got you," Gibbs was saying, over and over again, low and intense. "I got you, Tony."
"Gibbs," Tony said, his words choked. "Gibbs, please, let's go home."
"Shh," Gibbs was saying, and Tony clutched onto him, trying to get as close as humanly possible, burying his face in his neck and wanting and needing every bit of contact he could get as he tried to force himself to calm down.
"I hate the hospital," Tony said, "I hate it," he repeated, his breath coming in shaky bursts.
"I know," Gibbs said, and it didn't just sound like an empty platitude; it sounded like he did know, and Tony felt some of the urgency leave him and he swallowed thickly and loosened his hold just a little bit; enough that his knuckles were no longer white - because squeezing like that was kind of tiring - but still holding on securely, and he pressed his forehead against Gibbs' neck and sighed, his breath warming the skin beneath his lips.
"Gibbs," he said, his voice soft. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize," Gibbs said, "nothing to apologize for."
Tony was surprised he didn't follow it up with his usual "sign of weakness" quip, but he thought maybe Gibbs understand how weak he felt. And he thought that was okay.
Gibbs was still rubbing his back, and Tony relaxed into the embrace, too embarrassed to let go and face him. And, okay, maybe he kind of liked letting Gibbs hold him.
But as he sat there, he could feel a headache blooming behind his eyes and he sighed, pushing himself out of Gibbs' arms and wiping his eyes as he leaned back against his mattress. Gibbs reached over to his bedside table and grabbed a tissue, and Tony took it with an uncomfortable smile, first wiping his eyes, and then blowing his nose.
"Thanks," he said, tossing the tissue into his garbage can.
"No problem," Gibbs said, and Tony felt cold without Gibbs' hands on him, but before he could do anything, there was a tap on the doorframe and Dr. Foss came in.
"Ah-am I interrupting?" he asked, glancing between Tony and Gibbs. Tony felt embarrassment flood his cheeks, but Gibbs merely shook his head, not moving from his place on the edge of Tony's bed.
"How are you doing, Tony?" Dr. Foss asked, taking a seat on the chair closest to Tony's bed.
"Been better," Tony said, embarrassed at how nasally and raw his voice sounded.
Dr. Foss gave him a sympathetic smile. "I can understand that," he said. "I see perhaps some of the side effects of the methylprednisolone are beginning to take their toll," he said.
"Mood swings," he clarified when Tony looked at him blankly. "Although, given your situation, I'd say you've earned the right to a few of them even without the steroids in your system," he added, and Tony managed a weak smile.
"Have you been noticing any other side effects?" he asked. "It doesn't look like you have any facial swelling, or too much water retention," he observed, "but headaches? Muscle weakness?"
Tony sighed. "Got a bit of a headache now," he admitted, and Gibbs looked at him sharply.
"Why didn't you say so?" Gibbs asked.
"Just came on a minute ago," Tony said defensively, but Gibbs continued to watch him carefully, even when Tony rolled his eyes.
"I can give you a couple of Tylenol," Dr. Foss said. "And if it gets worse, we'll give you something stronger."
"Okay," Tony said.
"How about muscle weakness?" Dr. Foss asked. "Have you been noticing a lot of that?"
Tony thought for a moment, thinking of how tiring it was to clutch at Gibbs' shirt, and how weak he felt when he stood to use the bathroom, but he'd been doing nothing but lying in a bed, so he wasn't sure how much of that was a side effect of being lazy as opposed to taking steroids. "I'm not sure," he said.
Dr. Foss nodded, and wrote a couple notes down on his chart. "Tony, I think you'll be ready for release tomorrow morning," he said. "I'm going to make a few adjustments to your medication, and I'll have you come in for an outpatient appointment a week after you get released so that we can see how you're doing with the adjustments."
"Sounds good," Tony said, immensely pleased to hear he was going to get to leave. "But think maybe we can move that release date to, say, an hour from now?"
Dr. Foss laughed. "Sorry, Tony, I don't think so," he said. "Also, I think that you should take some time to rest at home before you go back to work," he said. "And we'll have to see how your medications react before we consider sending you into the field."
"You think I can do fieldwork?" Tony asked hopefully.
Dr. Foss sighed. "I don't know. Like I said, we'll have to see how the medications react. Truthfully, it doesn't seem like it will be an option because your balance is not consistent, and neither is your eyesight. The way your disease works, on days you feel especially tired, you might experience a small optic nerve disturbance, in which case, your vision might be blurry that day. Or, your leg might be a little bit weaker than usual one day, and all of these things are so subjective and unpredictable that it really wouldn't be safe to put you or your teammates in a situation where you become a liability. I know that might sound harsh, Tony, but it's vital that you fully understand the implications of this disease."
Tony nodded, not entirely surprised, but feeling let down and useless and weak and many of his most hated emotions nonetheless.
"However," Dr. Foss said, "from what I understand, there may be options for you that go beyond your desk."
"Like what?" Tony asked, and he didn't miss the way Gibbs' eyes narrowed as he listened to the doctor very carefully.
"Well, after talking to a few of your friends, I understand that you do a lot of crime scene investigating," he said, "and once a crime scene is secure, there's really no reason for you not to be able to help there, provided you're having a good day and all of your facilities are in order. After all, as your friend Ducky pointed out, he and his assistant do not carry weapons and are not special agents, but they are allowed, and so there is no reason for you not to accompany them. I don't know the specifics of your job, and I wouldn't dare pretend to, but if the location is secure and there are no threats present, there's no reason for you to be unable to go - at least from the medical standpoint."
Gibbs put his hand on Tony's arm as he listened, stroking his thumb back and forth, and Tony couldn't help but wonder what Dr. Foss thought was going on between the two of them - but then, alarmed, he thought - whatever he's thinking is true - but he knew he would have to deal with those thoughts later and he listened to the doctor's words rather than worry.
"But," Dr. Foss continued, "it's also very important that you are honest with yourself in terms of how you're feeling. With Devic's, your situation can change on a daily basis. You'll have really good days, and you'll have really bad days, and if you're having a bad day, it's vital that you rest. Stress isn't good for anyone, and especially not you. I know your job is stressful," he said, "and that's why you need to be honest with yourself, and take a day off if you need one. If you're tired and stressed out, for instance, and it begins to build up over a few days, the results could be blurry vision, migraines, and loss of sensation in your legs rather than just a mild headache and irritability, which is the case with most people."
Tony sighed, feeling his current headache increase in intensity. It was one thing to think about this disease, because then it was just an abstract concept that he didn't quite connect with himself yet, and it was an entirely different thing to be sitting down with his doctor, listening to him explain how his entire life would be different from then on. He absently rubbed at his forehead.
"I'll go and get you some Tylenol," Dr. Foss said, "unless you have any questions for me first."
"No," Tony said, "Honestly, I think I'm still processing half of what you just said."
"It's a lot to take in," Dr. Foss agreed. "Agent Gibbs?" he asked. "Any questions?"
Gibbs shook his head, still turning over much of what the doctor said in his mind.
"Tony," Dr. Foss said, noticing how tightly closed his eyes suddenly were. "On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your current headache?"
Tony sighed. "I hate this question," he complained.
"Nonetheless," Dr. Foss said, "give me a number."
"I don't know," Tony said, opening his eyes to look at the doctor. "Six? Seven?"
"I think I'll give you something a little stronger than Tylenol," he said.
"Okay," Tony said, swallowing thickly.
If Gibbs was surprised by Tony's uncharacteristically easy acceptance of the painkillers, he didn't say anything; just squeezed his arm as Dr. Foss left to get the medication Tony would need.
"Don't you have work?" Tony asked Gibbs, his voice low.
"I'll go in if we get a case," Gibbs said. "Vance knows what's going on with you; he knows where I need to be."
"He just lets you leave?" Tony asked.
A strange expression crossed Gibbs' face, a smirk that was amused and patient and almost a little vindictive. "Hell yeah he does," Gibbs said, and Tony wondered, not for the first time, exactly what conversations between Gibbs and the Director were like.
Tony closed his eyes again and sighed, trying to concentrate on Gibbs' fingers on his arm rather than the throbbing behind his eyes.
"Hey," Gibbs said, "go ahead and rest. I got your six. You wanna lay back down?"
"After the medicine," Tony murmured. "How's the boat?" he asked, trying to distract himself.
"Pretty bare," Gibbs said. "Just started."
"Will you show me?" Tony asked, opening his eyes to peer at Gibbs.
"Yeah, I'll show you," Gibbs said, squeezing his arm gently. "Now shut up and rest."
"Never knew you were such a sweet talker, Boss," Tony said, closing his eyes and giving a small smile despite his increasingly strong headache.
"Got a lot to learn, DiNozzo."
Tony managed a tired smile. He was beginning to realize that, but he was pretty sure this was a subject he'd pick up quickly.
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.