"I can stay at my apartment," Tony protested, fiddling with his seatbelt and watching the scenery fly by.
"No," Gibbs said. Tony scowled at this and crossed his arms over his chest.
"The doctor said I'm fine," he said defiantly.
"The doctor said you shouldn't drive right now," Gibbs pointed out. "And your eyesight's only 20/20," he added.
"20/20 is perfect eyesight!" Tony said.
"Yours was 20/10," Gibbs countered.
"Hmph," Tony said, turning again to scowl out the passenger window of Gibbs' car. The doctor had released him after dinner. His eyesight had continued to improve with the IV pumping more steroids into his system, and his balance was better-not perfect yet, but better, and they said if he kept taking his medicine, it would keep getting better. He'd been released on the stipulation that he not drive or do fieldwork until they knew what was going on with him. They'd given him medication to take at home, and said he could go back to work, but if he had any strange symptoms he was to notify Dr. Foss immediately.
Gibbs took this as "keep Tony in range of sight 24 hours a day," and Tony was beginning to feel stifled, even though he was finally out of the hospital.
"We'll stop at your apartment and get whatever you need," Gibbs said, "and you can stay in my guestroom."
"Why can't I stay at my apartment?" Tony said petulantly.
"DiNozzo, you stay with me until they know what's going on with you," Gibbs said. His hand was gripping the steering wheel tightly, and his back was rigid. Tony sighed. He knew from experience that there was no sense in arguing with the man when he got like this.
"It's not like I can't handle taking a shower and going to sleep," Tony said. "That's all I'll have to do at home," he added, well aware that he was pushing and Gibbs could very well explode on him at any moment.
"And how would you get to work tomorrow?" Gibbs asked.
Tony shrugged. "I'd call a cab," he said.
"Waste of money," Gibbs replied.
They were both silent for a moment, and Tony ignored the way his heart leapt at Gibbs' insistence that he stay with him. Even if it made him feel like a five year old, it was kind of nice. And it did make sense, he knew, just in case his symptoms worsened again. He was well aware that being out of the hospital did not mean he was healthy. His shoulders slumped in resignation and he leaned his head back against the headrest.
He picked up his head and smiled slightly, though, when he realized just where he was staying-he loved staying at Gibbs' house. He could go through the man's bookshelves and smell sawdust and drink beer-well, maybe no beer this time-and be comfortable and cozy and safe. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all, he thought.
"How much stuff should I bring with me?" Tony asked as they pulled into his apartment complex and climbed out of Gibbs' car.
Gibbs shrugged. "Enough for the week, I guess," he said.
"A week?" Tony said, eyebrows shooting up in alarm. "That's a long time, Boss. That's a lot of stuff."
Gibbs rolled his eyes and waited patiently as Tony unlocked the front door of the complex. He didn't comment on the way Tony leaned against the door for a moment, getting his bearings, before pushing the door open. Instead he followed close behind him on the stairs, just in case. Just in case what he wasn't sure, but he didn't want Tony's balance to suddenly leave him completely while he was on the stairs of his rundown apartment building.
Tony tossed his keys on the chair near his door once they entered his apartment and smiled. It felt good to be back, even if he would be leaving in as long as it took him to pack. He made his way to his bedroom, Gibbs close on his heels, and tugged a duffle bag out of the top shelf of his closet and tossed it on the floor. The many clothes hanging in front of him seemed rather intimidating as he wondered what to bring with him, so he sat on the bed for a moment to think about what to bring.
"Bag's not gonna pack itself," Gibbs said, sitting beside him on the bed.
Tony scowled and waited for his dizziness to pass, ignoring the way Gibbs was looking at him.
"Need a hand?" Gibbs finally asked.
Tony shook his head, dizziness beginning to recede, and pushed himself up again. He grabbed a few suits out of his closet and began to collect what he needed, Gibbs watching all the while. He yawned as he grabbed his shampoo and conditioner out of his shower-no way was he using Gibbs'-and grabbed some other toiletries out of his bathroom.
"Like a woman," Gibbs commented as Tony dumped his many toiletries into a discarded plastic bag to toss into his duffle.
Tony glared at him. "It's not my fault my hair requires gel to tame it," he said. "That doesn't make me a woman," he added. He huffed as he pulled some socks out of his drawer and tossed them into the duffle, too, glad to have his back to Gibbs so he didn't have to look at the man's face and see his stupid "Let's-tease-DiNozzo" grin.
When Tony was finally done shoving belongings into the bag, he flopped down onto his bed again, running a tired hand over his face, enjoying the feel of the soft bedding beneath his head. He was still tired despite having slept most of the weekend, and it was a lot of work to pack after doing nothing but lying around. Gibbs took one look at him and stood up, kneeling next to the overstuffed bag to wrestle with the zipper until it finally slid closed.
"Don't wrinkle my suits," Tony said tiredly without taking his hand off of his eyes. His overhead light was bright.
He didn't have to look to know Gibbs rolled his eyes. "All I did was zip this bag, DiNozzo," he said, "If the suits are wrinkled, it's your fault," he added. Tony had a feeling they probably weren't; he put them in zippered suit bags, after all, and he would take them out of the bags as soon as they got to Gibbs' house. For now, though, it felt nice to lie down on his bed and let Gibbs worry about his bag.
He heard Gibbs rummage around for a moment, and he was too tired to care. His arm dropped away from his eyes, and he didn't even realize he'd fallen asleep until Gibbs shook him awake a few moments later.
"Come on," Gibbs said, "Let's get you home."
Tony grunted his assent and pushed himself up to a sitting position, pausing as his head swam once he was upright. Still dizzy, he thought, squeezing his eyes closed and gripping the edge of his bed. Once the dizziness receded, he pushed himself up to standing, and didn't protest that Gibbs was carrying his bag. He remembered to grab his keys on the way out, and eagerly dropped down into Gibbs' passenger seat as soon as they got back out to the car. He let his head fall back against the headrest and closed his eyes as he listened to Gibbs tossing his bag into the backseat, then coming around to the front. He felt the car shift as Gibbs got in, and listened as he started the car, the sounds becoming hazy and indistinct as sleep tried to claim him once more.
"Hey," Gibbs said, reaching over and shaking his shoulder.
"Mmm?" Tony replied, keeping his eyes closed.
"Put your belt on," Gibbs said, and Tony sighed. Gibbs was back to that gentler voice, the one he kind of liked even if it did worry him that Gibbs felt the need to use that tone with him.
"Okay," Tony said, but didn't move. He just felt so comfortable.
"DiNozzo," Gibbs said, this time with a more commanding voice. "Seatbelt," he added sharply.
"Okay, okay," Tony said, tiredly lifting his head up and pulling the seatbelt down. His arms felt like lead and as soon as he felt the belt click into place, he let his arms fall to rest beside him again and closed his eyes.
--
"You sure you want to do this?" Gibbs asked, looking at Tony assessingly. They had just pulled into the NCIS parking lot, and Tony was holding onto his coffee with determination.
"Of course," Tony said, "what else am I going to do? Build a boat?"
"I don't know," Gibbs began sarcastically as he got out of the car. "Rest?" he suggested.
Tony sighed and followed behind Gibbs, ignoring the dizziness that he was beginning to get strangely accustomed to. "It's not like it's really strenuous to sit at a desk all day," he pointed out.
They passed through the entrance checkpoint in silence, and once they were in the elevator-most other NCIS employees wisely avoided getting into elevators Gibbs was on, so it was just the two of them-Gibbs flipped the emergency switch and turned to Tony seriously.
"If you start feeling worse for one second, you tell me," he said, and his voice was low and commanding.
Tony swallowed and nodded, taken aback by the seriousness of Gibbs' order. "Okay," he said.
"No one will care if you need a rest," he added. "You can go lie down on Abby's couch."
Tony nodded again, even if he knew he would never admit to needing a rest. Gibbs seemed to know that as well, because he just sighed and shook his head as he flipped the emergency switch again and the elevator resumed its movement.
Tony followed behind Gibbs as they entered the bullpen, wishing the lights were just a little less bright since his headache wasn't 100% gone, and he hoped his medicine would kick in soon-he could really go for a clear head, no dizziness, and absolutely no desk duty.
"Tony!"
Tony looked past Gibbs' form to see Abby leaning against his desk.
"Hey Abs," he said, and he wasn't surprised when the second he rounded the corner she pulled him into a tight hug.
"Should you really be here?" she asked, once she released him. She was looking at him searchingly, still holding onto his arms.
"Yeah," he said, "I'm fine."
Gibbs turned and gave him a look, and Tony studiously avoided his eyes while Ziva and McGee watched their interaction with interest.
"Fine, DiNozzo?" Gibbs questioned, pushing his desk chair out and stepping behind his desk to turn on his computer.
Tony sighed and scowled in Gibbs' direction while Gibbs' back was turned.
"Not fine," Tony corrected, looking back at Abby. "But well enough," he added, stepping past her to sit behind his desk.
"We are glad to have you back," Ziva said with a smile from behind her desk.
McGee nodded his agreement, and Abby went around Tony's desk and draped her arms around his shoulders from behind, squeezing tightly.
"Just come down to my lab if you're tired," she said to him, "You can rest on my couch. Okay?"
"Okay," he said, and she squeezed him one final time before letting go and waving at everyone as she made her way back to the elevator. Tony rubbed his eyes and opened his inbox, grimacing when he saw that he had 74 unread messages, most of which were the usual interoffice memos he would probably delete anyway.
It had taken him longer than usual to wake up that morning, and the night before, he'd gone to bed and fallen asleep as soon as they got back to Gibbs' house-which was only around 8:00. He took a long sip of his coffee. Already, he was feeling tired again and he'd only been up for a couple of hours. He had a feeling it was going to be a long day.
"Boss," McGee said suddenly, "Michael Barrett just used a credit card he opened under an alias, Eric Mercer."
Tony looked at him in surprise-they were still looking for him? And didn't Gibbs say it wasn't their case anymore? Since when did Michael Barrett have aliases? Tony looked at Gibbs suspiciously, but he ignored him in favor of crowding McGee's personal space and peering onto his computer screen.
"Where?" Gibbs asked.
McGee gestured towards the big screen and made his computer screen appear up there, where everyone could easily see. Gibbs turned to it, and Tony swiveled his chair so he could see while Ziva stood and leaned against her desk to look.
McGee pointed to a red flag on a map of the DC streets. "A Citgo station," he said, pointing to the red flag.
"That's good work, McGee," Gibbs said, and he quickly went to his desk to grab his gun. "David, McGee, with me. DiNozzo, you stay here," he said.
"Yeah, I know," Tony said, and did his best not to sound sullen as the rest of his team left. He couldn't help but wonder about this-it all seemed too convenient. With a sigh, he decided to use his time to catch up on the case, and so he set about finding the case file. Maybe he could find something useful.
--
Two and a half hours later, Tony had gone through the case file thoroughly and thought of nothing. Everything he thought to check up on someone else had already done. Nothing sparked his interest, or made him jump to a sudden conclusion that would break the case open. There were, however, many new facts he hadn't been let in on-like how Michael Barrett had aliases-and he didn't like the cold feeling he got when he thought about how much his team kept from him while he was in the hospital. He ran a hand over his face and stood up, pausing to accommodate his dizziness before making his way to the elevator.
The ride to Abby's lab was uneventful, save for the blurry mime of his De Niro impression he gave himself in the vaguely mirrored walls of the elevator (he gave it maybe a two out of ten-after all, he was tired and grumpy, but couldn't pass up an empty elevator and the chance to maybe try and act just a little like his normal self), and he grimaced as the bass of Abby's music flooded his ears as soon as the elevator dinged open, getting louder as he got closer, loud enough to invade his eardrums as soon as he crossed the threshold of the lab. When she saw him, Abby turned it down and hugged him again, letting her fingers twist into the back of his shirt for a moment.
"Third hug of the day," Tony commented. "Do I really look that pitiful?"
"Of course you don't look pitiful!" Abby said, pulling out of the hug and swatting him on the shoulder. "I was just worried about you all weekend! I'm making up for lost time!"
Tony pulled out a stool instead of commenting on her worry and sat at her computer desk, watching as she went back to work with some evidence to prepare it for tests. Not for one of his team's cases, he knew.
"So what's up?" she finally asked, glancing up at him and holding her gloved hands away from the specimens in front of her for a moment to focus on Tony. "Do you need my couch?"
"No," Tony replied, "Just thought I'd come say hi. Paperwork was getting a little boring."
"Oh, I bet," she said, smiling and looking back down at her work. "Where's Gibbs?" she asked as her hands went back to their former business.
"McGee caught Barrett using a credit card at a gas station," Tony said, "so they all went to find him." He made sure to keep the bitterness out of his voice.
"When was that?" Abby asked, not looking up from her work.
"About two hours ago," Tony said, swiveling in his stool for a moment, but stopping quickly when it didn't help his dizziness problem.
Tony yawned and leaned back against Abby's desk as he watched her. It was strangely hypnotizing to watch her hands go back and forth, back and forth, as they worked meticulously. Before he knew it, his eyes were sliding closed, and just as he realized he was about to fall asleep, his phone rang, jerking him awake.
"DiNozzo," he said, glancing up to see Abby looking at him with that concerned look everyone seemed to wear around him lately.
"DiNozzo, where are you?"
It was Gibbs, and he sounded hurried.
"I'm in Abby's lab," Tony said.
"Oh-sleeping?"
"No," Tony replied, rolling his eyes at Abby and flashing her a grin she returned easily despite her concern. "Just came down to shoot the breeze. Are you back?"
"Yeah," Gibbs said. "Upstairs, now."
Before he could reply, Gibbs hung up, and Tony sighed and stood up, bracing himself against Abby's stool and closing his eyes when the familiar wave of dizziness washed over him.
"Tony, are you sure you're okay? Maybe you should lie down," Abby said, coming around to stand in front of him.
Tony smiled at her and wiggled his eyebrows. "Is that an offer?" he said.
"Tony!" Abby said. "I'm being serious!"
"I'm fine, Abs," he said, shoving his phone in his pocket and reaching out to tug one of her pigtails. "I'm gonna go upstairs before Gibbs has a coronary."
"Okay," Abby said worriedly, "but come down and visit me again, okay?"
"You got it," Tony said, making his way toward the elevator. It came quickly, and when he got back to the bullpen, Gibbs was gathering their file on Barrett and McGee and Ziva were at their computers.
"How'd it go?" Tony asked, looking between the three of them and leaning against his desk.
"We got Barrett," Ziva said without looking up.
"Good," Tony said, "is he in interrogation?"
"Sure is," McGee said, looking up from his computer to smile in Tony's direction. "I can't believe he used his credit card, even if it was an alias."
"Hey," Gibbs interrupted, file in hand. He stood in front of Tony and looked at him carefully. "You okay?"
"Yeah, Boss, I'm fine," he said.
Gibbs looked at him skeptically. "I really am," Tony asserted. "Are you going to interrogate Barrett now?"
"Yeah," Gibbs said, and turned towards the interrogation rooms. "Ziva's with me. You two watch," he said, pointing towards Tony and McGee.
They trudged behind Gibbs to interrogation, and Tony eagerly sank into a chair once they got to the viewing room. Barrett had a few days worth of stubble on his jaw, and his hair was unkempt and messy, Tony noticed. He looked exhausted, if the dark circles under his eyes were anything to go by.
"Looks pretty tired," Tony commented. "Maybe he used the credit card because he was too lazy to hide anymore."
"Maybe," McGee said, standing in front of the glass and watching Barrett intently. Tony was too tired to stand up himself, so he rested his chin on his hand and watched from the little table in the viewing room. He smiled at the way Barrett jumped when Gibbs threw his hands down on the table in front of him, and at the way Ziva prowled around him like a tiger.
"Hey, Probie, move over a little," Tony complained when McGee moved into his line of sight. McGee glanced at him, then moved over so that Tony could see.
"Hey, are you sure you're-"
"I'm fine," Tony said, sick of everyone asking after his health.
"Maybe you should rest," McGee said hesitantly.
"Maybe you shouldn't distract me from watching this interrogation," Tony replied sourly, and McGee rolled his eyes and turned back to watch Gibbs and Ziva interrogate Barrett.
"Oh really?" Ziva was saying, while Gibbs stood behind Barrett, so close that if Barrett moved just an inch he'd back into him. "You do not know Lisa Wooster?" she continued.
Barrett nodded, his messy hair falling into his face.
Gibbs reached around Barrett for the file and put the picture of Wooster dead in her apartment on the table.
"Recognize her now?" Gibbs asked.
Barrett shook his head. "No," he said, not looking away from the picture. Tony knew this guy was guilty; any innocent man would have reacted to the photo of a young woman dead and bloody on her apartment floor.
Tony looked up when the door to the viewing room opened and Ducky came in. "Ah, Tony, good to see you back," he said. "And good work to you, McGee, for finding Barrett."
"Thanks, Ducky," McGee said before turning back to watch the interrogation.
"How is it coming along?" Ducky asked Tony, pulling out a chair next to him and gesturing towards Barrett.
"He's guilty," Tony said. "They better get a confession."
"Knowing Jethro, they will," Ducky said, and Tony nodded in agreement.
"Tony," Ducky continued, "Have you taken your second pill of the day yet?"
"No, not time yet, Ducky," he said, glancing back towards the interrogation as Gibbs slammed his hands down on the table and leaned in close to speak aggressively in Barrett's ear.
"Don't you take it at 11:00?" Ducky asked, his voice gentle.
"Yeah-oh," Tony said, when he glanced at the clock and saw that it was 11:10. "Guess I better go take that," he said, pushing himself up wearily and ignoring the way Ducky watched him deal with the dizzy spell before making his way out of the room.
He thought it would be no big deal to come back to work and sit behind a desk all day. And here he was-exhausted by 11 AM, with everyone staring at him and asking him how he was and expecting him to collapse in front of them at any given moment. He didn't even feel sick-just tired and dizzy, and yet he just knew that everyone was giving him concerned and worried glances like he'd suddenly come down with the plague again.
He sighed and sat down in his desk chair, spinning to the side to reach into his backpack and pull out his pills. He took one out and swallowed it with the bottle of water on his desk, then leaned back in his chair for a moment. He contemplated going back to interrogation, but he didn't want to deal with McGee and Ducky, and he'd been left out of so many details of the case that he figured he might as well skip out anyway, so he pushed himself back up and made his way to the elevator, heading towards Abby's lab again.
When he entered, she was in her office checking her email and she didn't notice him at first, so he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and gave her a quick hug in lieu of a greeting.
"Hey Abs," he said, letting go of her and sinking into her couch.
"Tony!" she said, swiveling in her chair to look at him. "They got Barrett?" she asked.
"Yeah," Tony said, allowing his head to sag onto the back of the couch. "They're interrogating him now."
"You're not watching?" she asked, moving to sit beside him on the couch. "Are you tired?"
Tony sighed. "Yeah," he said, "but I'm not that tired. I'm just sick of everyone acting like I'm about to fall over and die."
Abby snuggled up next to him and wrapped her arms around him. "Everyone's worried about you," she said. "Aren't you worried?"
He paused, unsure of how to answer, but was saved from having to do so by a ding from one of her machines in the next room.
"I'll be right back," she said, hoisting herself off the couch. "But don't think you're off the hook, Mister," she warned, waving a finger in his direction.
Tony watched her go and then leaned back against the couch again, allowing his eyes to fall shut. At least if he fell asleep he wouldn't have to talk about it.
--
As usual, the first thing Tony became aware of as he woke up was Gibbs' hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently, and as he opened his eyes, Gibbs' face swam into his field of vision.
"Pizza?" Tony asked wearily, glancing around as the smell drifted toward his nose.
Gibbs nodded, and sat next to Tony on the couch.
"Did he confess?" Tony asked, rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn.
Gibbs gave him a look. "What do you think?"
Tony shrugged. "I don't know," he said, his brain still catching up to his mouth, "'s why I asked."
"Yeah, the bastard confessed," Gibbs confirmed. He reached out and pulled Abby's desk chair closer, and opened up the pizza box that was sitting on top.
"Here," he said, pulling out a piece and offering it to Tony.
"Thanks, Boss," Tony said. He took it eagerly. "What time is it?" he asked through a mouthful of pizza.
"1330," Gibbs replied. "Slept for a while," he added, taking his own piece and regarding Tony carefully as he ate. Tony glanced out to the main room of Abby's lab, watching her fingers fly over the keyboard at one of her computers.
"I guess I was tired," Tony said with a shrug.
"Second thoughts?" Gibbs asked.
"Huh?" Tony asked, looking at him in confusion.
"About coming back to work?" Gibbs clarified before taking an enormous bite of his pizza.
"No," Tony said, "Why would I?"
Gibbs didn't reply, he merely chewed on his pizza for a moment and watched Tony with concern.
"People ask if you're okay because they care about you," Gibbs finally said, and Tony's head snapped up to look back out, accusingly, at Abby.
"She didn't say anything," Gibbs said. "Didn't have to."
"You wouldn't like it either," Tony said, taking another bite of his pizza, only this time chewing it with much more force than necessary.
"No, I wouldn't," Gibbs admitted. "Still the truth, though."
"I know," Tony said. "I just..." he trailed off and ran a hand through his hair.
"I know," Gibbs said, and his voice was comforting again, and Tony swallowed thickly before taking another bite of his pizza. He knew Gibbs understood what he himself didn't want to put words to; that he was worried about himself, and that every time someone asked him if he was okay, he smiled and said he was because really, he was scared, and Tony didn't do well with scared, so he just pretended it didn't exist. Gibbs got that, Tony knew, because Gibbs was the same way himself.
And suddenly Tony felt guilty, because here was Gibbs, a solitary and rough man, giving Tony his home, and his time, and using that gentle tone of voice-Tony put his half-eaten piece of pizza back in the box. "I think I'm done, Boss," he said.
"Hey," Gibbs said, and his voice was sharp and displeased. "Eat that," he said, gesturing towards the box.
"That's okay," Tony said, "I'm not hungry."
Gibbs finished his piece and wiped his hand on his thigh before reaching out and turning Tony's head to look at him.
"Listen up, DiNozzo, because I'm only saying this once," he said, and Tony nodded, chin brushing against Gibbs' hand. "Don't sit around feeling sorry for yourself," he said, "and don't you dare sit around feeling guilty, either. Got it?"
Tony's eyes widened, and he jerked his head out of Gibbs' grasp. "Yeah," he said, wondering how the hell Gibbs always knew what he was thinking. "Yeah, I got it, Boss," he said, just as Gibbs' hand reached out and gave him a gentler-than-usual headslap. He chanced giving Gibbs a small smile before reaching out and grabbing his unfinished piece of pizza.
"Don't make me kick your ass," Gibbs warned, grabbing a new piece for himself.
"Wouldn't dream of it, Boss," Tony said, and this time, the smile he gave him was genuine. Even if he did start worrying and feeling sorry for himself, he knew Gibbs was there, and even if he started feeling guilty about that, he knew that Gibbs wasn't doing this because he felt he had to; he didn't do anything for reasons like those. He was doing this because it was what he wanted to do. He didn't operate in any other manner. So, like every other time Gibbs gave him an order, he was going to do his best to follow it.
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