Tim followed Ziva apprehensively. “What’s happened? Is Tony at Bethesda? Something was off today, but I didn’t think he was actually sick. Boss must know something…” Tim trailed off as he swept in front of his partner to push the door open for her while pulling out his cell.
“Do not call Gibbs,” Ziva insisted, grabbing his phone before he could touch the screen. She looked down the street both ways as he pulled them away from the flickering lights of the bar’s entrance. The street was littered with groups of kids, couples, friends; it was Friday night. When Ziva stopped near a tree and whipped them around so their backs faced the street, Tim got tired of being left out of the loop.
“Okay, Ziva. From whom are we hiding?” Tim’s sigh was annoyed and he crossed his arms with his fingers poised to use the phone, obviously refusing to move until he got something more.
“Just a precaution, McGee.” Tim started to use his phone again and Ziva stuttered into speech. “I-I am n-ot positive of what is going on, but I am positive something is going on,” she said, peering around the tree in time to catch the black 1960’s hot rod hearse make a right three blocks down. “I saw Gibbs and Abby leave the bar. He said something about Bethesda, I think, and they were off.” She finished, looking at Tim expectantly.
“I’m glad I drove,” Tim sighed, making his way to where they parked around the corner.
“You always drive because you love being the dictator designator-“
“The what?”
“The person with the power who makes the rules and holds the keys-“
“Designated driver. And it’s not fun to be the one who can’t drink, but last time Tony was the designated driver, he kept sneaking beers with the guys doing pitchers at the pool tables and when it was Abby, Tony kept slipping her Jagerbombs. Are you saying I’m on some power trip?” Tim asks, opening the door of the Jaguar and waiting patiently as Ziva stares at him with a stubborn smirk across her lips. “We can stand here all night not following your lead or you can get your hind parts in this car and stop wasting my time,” Tim said in a calm and commanding tone, answering her shock with an easy smile of his own. “Do you honestly think I need the pretense of ‘designated driver’ to play at being in control?” He shut his door and looked at Ziva as the car came to a quiet hum of a start. She looked at him and there was no mask of the timid agent, aiming to please. There was only the surety that comes with superior knowledge and skills and … sex. She gasped and, immediately embarrassed, looked straight ahead. Tim’s gaze filled with lust and, with a knowing smile, he began to talk. “We all play our roles, Ziva. Do you honestly think there is room for three alpha males on this team? And of course, you’re more alpha than both of them in some ways- at least you try to be. Don’t worry; I think you’ve got them fooled,” he laughed, pulling into traffic.
“I assure you, I don’t know what you are talking about, McGee, but I did not mean to offend you or suggest that you are powerle-“
“Of course not. We won’t discuss it anymore,” Tim said, managing to sound upbeat and forgiving yet commanding and threatening in the same breath. Ziva turned her confused glare to the window, thinking it unwise to aim it at this new Timothy McGee. She obeyed in silence.
~
When they walked into the dimmed room, Eliot was glad to see that Tony had his own space and that he was still sleeping. All the lights were out except the one on the nightstand, casting Tony’s face and all the beeping machines, frightening machines in a garish light.- He was kind of freaked out about the breathing machine. That wasn’t right. Tony looked so rested and comfortable that Eliot had to smile and wonder how long it would last before he was rutting and horny again. Eliot knew it was a horrible ordeal for Tony to endure, but it made him hot to think of Tony so desperate, needing him and demanding to be fucked. He suspected that Tony was finished with his fertility cycle except for the less urgent anatomical pops and fizzes he may have the next couple days. He hoped so because Bethesda Memorial Trauma was no place for loud and raunchy sex. Morning wood he could deal with, but frantic fucking throughout the day and night was something else altogether. He gave a sigh of relief, hoping Tony was sedated.
“Don’t think you’re out of the woods just yet. We’re letting the machine breath for him for another few hours but when he wakes up we’ll get to see if his lungs are functioning or not, boys. How did it get this bad?” The doctor in blue scrubs stamped ‘property of Bethesda Memorial’ asked as he emerged from comfortable looking chair in the darkened corner.
“We didn’t know about his lungs. We didn’t notice anything was wrong until he stopped breathing, right Eliot?” Derek demanded, calling his name to stir him out of his thoughts. Eliot looked up from Tony and gave a quick but certain nod. “We’re worried, doctor. How bad is it and why is he on all these machines?”
“Where’s Gibbs?” The doctor asked, before giving his prognosis.
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” Eliot growled, stepping up to confront the doctor who towered several inches above him.
“Let’s start over,’ he smiled. “I’m Brad Pitt- no relation to the… forget it,” he thought better of it. By the look of the crazed, stocky man he wasn’t far from being assaulted. His friend seemed much more reasonable, but he was the one carrying the gun and he hadn’t identified himself. “I’ve been Tony’s doctor since he injured his lungs. Whenever I’ve checked on him in the hospital before, Gibbs and the team has been with him. I just assumed Gibbs would be here. And you are?” Dr. Pitt asked as he held a hand out to Derek who immediately shook and played his part.
“Agent Derek Morgan and this is Eliot Spencer. We’re old friends of Tony’s and his team’s not here because he wasn’t at work when this happened. Now, we need to know what’s wrong with our friend, doctor.” Derek looked expectantly at Dr. Pitt who looked around himself then sighed and smiled at the men.
“Well, Tony lungs were on their way to shutting down. There was swelling that ultimately caused the obstruction but that’s steadily going down and we’re keeping an eye out to make sure his vitals improve.”
“That’s real vague of you, doctor. We ain’t dumb; tell us what’s wrong. His lungs are damaged already from the plague, right? Is that why he’s susceptible to whatever the hell this is?” Eliot demanded, staring down Dr. Pitt like he wanted to put his fist in the taller man’s skull.
“I don’t know either of you, so there’s no way I’m going to give you details about Tony’s condition without his consent. If his team were here, that’d be different…”
“Look, doc, what can we do? When do you expect him to wake up?” Derek asked, giving a warning glare to his acquaintance. Just then Eliot’s phone rings and Derek smirks at the Mission Impossible ringtone. “I gotta take this. Find something out!” Eliot says and stalks out the private room and down the hall toward the stairwell for privacy. Derek turns on his Agent Morgan charm and looks at Dr. Pitt.
“I can tell you he’s sedated so he’ll be out for at least another hour. I’m hoping he’ll sleep through the night so we can leave the respirator on and let his lungs rest a bit. When he wakes up we’ll turn it off. There’s nothing to do but to be here when he wakes- and call- well speak of the devil.”
“Are you saying I’m evil Brad?”
“Not quite evil, but definitely scary, Gibbs. Am I glad to see you- I was about to call you myself.”
“Why didn’t you?” Gibbs was a master at small talk and his voice was light hearted and friendly, flaunting his familiarity with the doctor in Derek’s face. The FBI agent just smiled placidly, awaiting the prognosis he knew was seconds away. He watched as Gibbs approached the bed, looking at the chart hanging from the foot of it and inspecting the machines like he knew what he was looking at. The girl in the black cape would’ve been lugubrious in her mourning if she weren’t so damned sincere. She was obviously worried and near tears.
“I just figured I’d wait here for you, but these guys showed up and I wondered if you even knew he was here.”
“I knew. Just a bit late. So what’s happening, Dr. Pitt?”
“I was hoping someone could tell me. From what I can tell, it looks like an allergic reaction that caused massive inflammation in his lungs. We’ve treated it with epinephrine and the swelling has reversed. His lungs are improving and I hope to see him back to normal by morning.”
“But what caused it? And how do we stop it from happening again?” Gibbs demands, needing more.
“I don’t know. Our best bet is to talk to Tony when he wakes up and see if he ate or did anything different today.”
“Or we can just talk to whoever he was with,” Abby points out, eying Morgan who raises his hands in surrender.
“I know nothing, but I’ll tell you whatever you think will help. He’s been with me since about three and he’s eaten a ham and turkey sandwich and water. That’s it-“
“Where’s Eliot?” Gibbs growls so that Derek does a double take.
“He had to take a call but I’m sure he’ll be back soon.” Morgan noticed that Gibbs didn’t like his answer, but the older man focused on something else.
“I assume this respirator is just temporary, doctor.” Gibbs said before Dr. Pitt could leave.
“Right. Just giving his lungs a rest. When Tony came in his breathing was so labored that we had to use it until we brought the swelling down. Now he’s resting so we’ll just let it stay. I have no reason to suspect he’ll still have a problem breathing once all the swelling is gone. I’m headed back to surgery, but I’ll be around when he wakes up. Have the nurse call me.”
“Will do, Brad. Thanks.”
“Oh, Gibbs. He looks so tired. What have you done to him?” She demanded, pointing an accusing finger at Morgan.
“For the last time, I did nothing to Tony, Abby. It’s Abby, right? I’ve heard a lot about you,” Derek held out his hand and Abby automatically shook it a bit distractedly.
“I know about you too,” Abby admitted. “Well now, I know all about you.” She noticed Morgan’s raised brow and smirk of interest. “And I know that you wouldn’t hurt Tony on purpose, but I need to know what you actually did to put him in the hospital.”
“Abby, the doctor says it looks like some allergic reaction, right? As far as I know, Tony didn’t do anything out of the ordinary.”
“As far as you know? What does that mean, Supervisory Special Agent Morgan?” Abby demanded with a sinister glint in her eyes.
“It means,” Gibbs voice sounded like cut glass, “find Eliot Spencer.”
~
“Aha! A black hearse!” Ziva shouted, startling Tim so that he glanced at her sideways as he rolled past the main entrance to Bethesda.
“Not just any hearse: Abby’s Flame Noir.” Tim said as he pulled into the first available parking spot and jumped out the car in seconds with Ziva in step with him. “She’s double parked. It must be urgent,” Tim mumbles, hurrying to the sliding doors where he catches Ziva who seems to trip over some guy arguing with himself.
“Wait a minute,” Ziva moved into the doorway, letting the doors slid shut as she watched the man stalk further and further away. “I forgot my phone in your car. You go find Tony- I’ll be right behind you,” she said, holding her hand out for Tim’s keys. Weird, Tim thought, but he was more concerned with finding out why Gibbs and Abby were at Bethesda.
“Ah, I think my friend has been admitted- Anthony DiNozzo,” Tim said, leaning on the information desk as he looked over his shoulder for Ziva. She was nowhere to be found.
“Room 756,” the silver haired lady smiled.
~
“Eliot had to take an important call. I’m sure he’ll be back any minute now,” Derek assured.
“So this Eliot is the one to talk to? Because I’ll go find him. Don’t you leave, SSA Morgan. You two play nice,” Abby warned, walking out of the room and away from the beeps and hisses of the machines.
“If this is how you take care of your friends, I’d hate to be your enemy,” Gibbs said with a deceptive smile.
“Oh, I think you’d feel those shoes quite comfortably, Gibbs. But despite what you may believe, I am not the enemy. Neither is Spenser. We may not have known about Tony’s lungs, but we weren’t negligent. Eliot says nothing clued him into the fact that Tony was in danger and I can attest to the fact that Tony was talking just moment before he stopped breathing.”
“I told you he needed a doctor,” Gibbs said. “Now I’m telling you he doesn’t need your help anymore-“
“It’s killing you to know that Tony has another life. A life you don’t know about. One he hasn’t shared with you. I’m here for Tony and I leave when Tony asks me to- not when you give the order, Gibbs.”
Gibbs’ face was unreadable, but Derek didn’t begin to think that meant there wasn’t a storm brewing beneath all that pathological calm. “What I can’t understand is how you failed to hear about Tony almost dying if you’re such a good friend. See, I was having a hard time buying this nicely packaged story you’ve presented then I realized that I never really got a chance to talk to Tony- not when he was lucid anyway. For all I know he could’ve been drugged at his apartment.”
“If you thought that you would’ve shot me this afternoon.”
“This afternoon, I thought Tony might be in danger. Now, I know he is and there’s no way in hell I’m letting you take him home. I’ll post a protective detail if I have to, but I’m not leaving him unsupervised.”
“So now I’m a threat to Tony?” But something in Gibbs’ assessing look let Derek know that he was less concerned about him than he was about Eliot. After all, Derek Morgan was a model government employee. It was Spenser who had all the dirt in his background. “Look, Eliot isn’t really what he appears to be and he’d never hurt Tony. But I guess you’d have to find that out yourself-“
“Gibbs!” Tim exclaimed charging into the room with a reluctant Abby in tow. “I was hoping I’d find you here even though Abby swore you weren’t even at the hospital,” then Tim stopped abruptly when he noticed Tony. “What happened? Is he going to be okay?”
“His lungs collapsed. The doctor thinks it was some sort of allergic reaction, but they don’t really know anything. They think he’ll be better in the morning, Abby explained. “But we’re gonna find out what happened, cause something is definitely hinky, McGee. As soon as I find this Eliot Spenser character, I’ll … I’ll find out what really happened,” Abby finished, leaning out the doorway and looking down the corridor. “He’s like, 5.9 with shoulder length dirty blond hair and icy blue eyes, kinda muscular like a thug,” was all Abby got out before the description began to register with Tim.
“Where did you say this Spenser went?” he asked.
“He got a call. He’ll be right back.” Morgan sighed, getting tired of calming everyone down.
“Not if we don’t get to him in time,” Tim muttered loud enough for the room to hear him, but he took off down the hall, not bothering to waste time explaining.
~
Ziva was sure she’d heard the name Eliot Spenser in the bar and she could tell by the way Gibbs reacted that he didn’t trust the man. Why else would he have Abby do a background check? Was this man trying to hurt Tony? Was he at the hospital to finish the job? The only thing Ziva was sure of was that she heard, “Now, Eliot!” shouted on the phone of the bulky man she’d bumped into only a minute ago. There had been no time to explain to McGee. Besides, Ziva could tell by his gait and half a dozen other nuances that this man was trained. He was a real killer who wouldn’t have any qualms shooting her or her partner. She knew her best choice was to get Tim to safety and get in close enough to disarm this Eliot if necessary.
Ziva watched him stalk around the side of the hospital, double timing her pursuit as soon as he slipped out of view. When she came to the corner where her quarry disappeared she stopped short, catching her breath before whipping around the corner with her Glock trained on an annoyed man ten feet away.
“Nate! Nate, I hear you, but this ain’t no team job and right now, I got a trained assassin pointing a gun at me. Mossad?” He asked and Ziva couldn’t help her speculative look but her gun stayed trained on her target. He gave her his full attention while turning slightly to show he had no weapons. “I hate guns. I prefer hand to hand combat,” he said, walking slowly toward the woman aiming the gun at his chest.
“Move closer and I shoot,” the Israeli said in a calm monotone. He was six feet away now and she would tolerate no more.
“Who sent you, then? It’s been a while since director David was angry with me. Last I heard he still owed me a favor and now he sends a pretty thing like you to kill me,” Eliot turned on his most charming smile before dropping low and stepping in close enough to sweep Ziva’s feet from under her if she hadn’t jumped too quickly. Her kick meant for Eliot’s face was caught by his forearms as sprung up, pushing Ziva off balance so that she used the momentum to swing her other leg up until they both scissor around his neck, throwing him down like a seasoned wrestler.
“NCIS. Where is DiNozzo?”
“It figures. Don’t tell me- Ziva David, right?” Eliot heaved a sigh of regret. He hated hitting women, but this was worse. He wondered if Anthony would forgive him for battering his Israeli friend. He’d have to be sure to not leave a mark. “You know, I always said there’s only two things Israeli women are good for,” he smiled too comfortably from where she had him locked to the ground.
“Really? Is one of them kicking your ass?”
“So you’ve heard this joke before?” Suddenly the tables were turned and he was pinning Ziva to the concrete with his forearm against her throat when he remembered he wasn’t supposed to leave a mark. He jumped up, giving her a wider berth so that she’d have to come to him. She didn’t disappoint. She was a lightning fast blur of arms and legs, striking Eliot everywhere. He knew his forearms would be bruised from all the blocking- not to mention his ribs and legs which caught plenty of the killer’s bolts. It seemed like they’d been fighting a while, but it couldn’t have been more than a minute when she landed her first punch, followed by Eliot’s intuitive jab to the nose which he immediately regretted when he felt more than heard the crunch of her bones breaking. He hesitated just enough to catch the roundhouse kick that left his right ear ringing.
“Fight or die,” she spat blood at his feet and charged so fast that Eliot knew he should put an end to this. He pulled out the KA BAR from his boot and aimed for her heart.
~
“Abby, wait here,” was all McGee could remember saying as he dashed down the hall, taking the stairs. He scanned the entry and found no trace of Ziva so that he followed his hunch to a side entrance where he kicked an emergency door open, silently thanking God that no alarm sounded. He arrived just in time to see his bloodied partner spin around, kicking a man into the wall before whipping out one of her throwing knives. With her knife poised at the man’s throat, McGee wondered if Ziva had any idea that a seven inch blade was aimed beneath her armpit, eagerly awaiting the burst of her heart’s blood around it’s serrated edge.
“Don’t move,” McGee commanded from at least thirty feet away. He closed in swiftly, rounding the combatants so that he made eye contact with the man. “Drop your weapon!” He demanded.
“Ladies first,” Eliot insisted with a charming southern drawl that sounded more aroused than concerned for his life. Tim was shocked by his instant hatred for Eliot Spenser but he pushed this out of his mind. Ziva had recklessly pursued this dangerous man and now she was in danger.
“Drop it,” was all Gibbs said from behind Eliot, but the younger man could hear in the gravelly tone of his voice that Gibbs was looking for any excuse.
“I’ll drop it when she does,” Eliot said simply, wanting to comply more than he wanted to be killed. But he wasn’t an idiot. He didn’t trust this lot at all and he’d sooner take one in the chest than have them kill him and walk away clean. He wasn’t sure about the young agent, but Gibbs and David wanted him dead. He wasn’t at all certain he’d make it out of this alive when he heard a familiar voice.
“C’mon, Eliot, put it down. We can work this out-“
“Well, hell! It’s nice to see you, Morgan. This ain’t kosher, if you catch my meaning,” Eliot eyed Ziva and his eyes rolled sideways as if he could see Gibbs aiming the Sig Sauer at his head.
“Trust me. Drop the knife and David steps back,” Morgan said, training his gun on Gibbs so that McGee aimed at Morgan.
“Boss?” McGee asked, but Ziva didn’t bat an eye. When she heard the clatter of the KA BAR, she leaned in slowly and sniffed behind Eliot’s ear, rubbing her nose against his skin in as If relishing the scent of his anger and apprehension.
“Crazy bi-“
“Eliot, what happened?” Derek asked as Ziva slapped cuffs on the shorter man, pushing him towards Tim’s car.
“She attacked me. Why are you letting her cuff me, man. Aren’t you a federal agent with more clout than these Navy cops?”
“What are you taking him in for?” Derek would’ve asked Gibbs, but it was Ziva who seemed to be making the decisions while Gibbs just stared on with an almost blank face that Morgan could’ve sworn hid a self-satisfied smirk.
“Assaulting a federal agent. And you are?” Ziva demanded, pulling the device from Spenser’s ear and crushing it to metal and plastic shards on the concrete.
“SSA Morgan,” Derek flipped his badge and walked alongside the agents, not willing to completely relinquish control of the situation.
“We’re just taking him down for some questioning. Of course, he’ll have to sit there until Tony wakes up. There’s no way I’m leaving Bethesda before that. You understand,” This last was directed at Eliot whose cold stare made it obvious that he was seething beneath it all.
“He doesn’t want you, old man. You’re setting yourself up for disappointment,” Eliot prevaricated. He couldn’t bear to look at Derek who knew the truth; Tony would take Gibbs however he could get him. At least that’s what Eliot feared. He was second best and, deep down, he knew it. He wasn’t clueless enough to miss the similarities between himself and the seasoned detective. Before, when Gibbs was Tony’s hopeless pipe dream, Eliot never minded second place. Now that Gibbs seemed dangerously interested in his love, Eliot realized that being sent to the Navy yard meant losing the competition. Only first place gets the prize. ‘Well,’ Eliot thought, ‘I’ll be damned if I lose after all this time.’ They pushed him into the back of Abby’s hearse. “I’ll be fine,” he assured Morgan. “You stay here,” he said, eying Gibbs then giving Derek a knowing look.
“Wait with him, McGee,” and the three agents walked in silence to room 756 where they waited for Abby to agree to leave Tony and drive back to the yard.
~
“So he attacked you? Because he seems like a particularly humane guy. I think he’s an animal lover,” Abby assured Ziva sotto voce. She waited for Ziva to answer, looking in the rearview mirror at the seething man behind Ziva. Tim was watching him too and when Abby looked to the assassin for an answer she was surprised to see Ziva only had eyes for McGee. Abby glared at the pretty Israeli, wondering why she looked so intrigued. It’s not as if Timothy McGee is mysterious or dangerous, thought Abby, suddenly feeling as sullen as Spenser looked. She lost the urge to fish for information and looked straight ahead, enjoying the quiet cruise down the beltway, imagining it was just her and Flame Noir sailing through the Garden District at 3am.
Later, Abby felt compelled to watch Eliot Spenser through the glass, mostly because Ziva and McGee were watching Eliot Spenser through the glass. She joined them late after going to her lab to brood for thirty minutes on McGee’s suggestion. Eventually the wondering what they were doing kind of got to her. It was too quiet. She made her way back to the squad room then down the hall to interrogation and stepped into the room.
To say Tim didn’t even spare her a glance wouldn’t be accurate. He’d made it a point to look Abby in the eye with a questioning smile she easily read. What are you doing here, he wanted to know, but he returned his attention to Ziva who looked flustered and near tears.
“All I am suggesting is that you be more cautious, Ziva. You are no longer an international spy or a Mossad assassin. You are an NCIS agent with a team you trust.”
“Of course, McGee-“
“I don’t want lip service, Ziva. I want you to stop running into fires unnecessarily.”
After a few moments of silence a sigh filled the dimmed room and a barely heard whisper, “I will try my best-“ but Ziva’s promise was cut short by Freddy Mercury and Queen singing “we will we will rock you” until Abby picked up and said,
“Abby… He did? … O-okay,” she agreed after hearing the ubiquitous click. When she looked up, both Tim and Ziva were looking at her with questioning glares. “I’m actually gonna go home now. Because it’s late a-and there’s nothing for me to do here,” she almost seemed as if asking for permission.
“Abby, call me when you get home. I’ll stop by in the morning, all right?” Tim asked with a gentle smile as if he actually needed to.
“Tomorrow,” Abby half smiled and waved, not really wanting to leave the two of them alone. Together.
“I’ll have Jerome meet you at the elevators,” Tim said.
“Bye Abby,” Ziva offered politely for all of her distraction.
~
After Ziva and Abby left there was nobody to run interference for Gibbs and Morgan and they both seemed relieved. Gibbs inspected each machine and reviewed Tony’s charts again, not offering any information just yet.
“Careful there, Gibbs; someone might think you actually know what you’re looking at,” Morgan broke the ice.
“I do.”
“Of course you do. You’re Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs. You can do anything, right? And now you’re going to replace Eliot. So tell me, Gibbs, what are you going to do when Tony wakes up horny as hell and begging for relief?” Morgan had no patience for being anything other than direct. “Because if you can’t answer that, you need to get Eliot and let him do what Tony needs him to do.”
“I’ll do whatever’s necessary to take care of Tony,” Gibbs said with certainty even though he wasn’t sure what that would be exactly. Deep in some hidden part of him, he was giddy with unbelieving excitement that he would be allowed to touch Tony in ways he’d only imagined- in ways he never even dreamed of. “But you’re here, so I’m sure Tony will be fine,” Gibbs added for good measure. He didn’t want to seem too eager, but he’d be damned if he was going to sit by and watch another man have his way with Tony.
“Right,” Morgan said, unconvinced and not fooled for a minute by Gibbs’ feigned disinterest. “He’ll wake up soon. Let’s hope his cycle has run its course. For what it’s worth, we think he started earlier this week and he finished up tonight. The next couple of days should be manageable. You may not have to do anything at all,” Morgan said, looking for Gibbs’ reaction. He smirked at the older man’s poker face and continued as they watched a restless if sedated Tony stroke himself roughly beneath the sheets. “In a few minutes he’ll wake up. Let’s hope to God he’s not in the middle of one of his ruts.”
“And what if he is,” Gibbs asked.
“Then he’ll be frantic. The only way to calm him down will be a dick up his ass and a hand stroking him- preferably not his own. But let’s hope that’s not the case; a hospital is hardly the place I want to get my groove on, if you know what I’m saying,” Derek laughed, watching Tony shift his weight from one side to another before trying turn over as he roughly handled himself. “He’s waking up. Call the nurse to get this tube out of his throat,” Derek said, moving to the other side of the bed, ready to greet Tony any second now. Gibbs pushed the button from the other side of the bed and stood back a bit but close enough for Tony to see him.
By the time his eyes fluttered open, two nurses were pushing Morgan back and steadily pulling on the tube down Tony’s throat. “How are you feeling, Anthony?” The short, middle-aged nurse asked with all the sweetness of a favorite auntie. He tried to crack a joke, but all that came out was a hacking cough. “Don’t speak, just nod” she said as the other nurse handed him a little plastic cup filled with water. Tony downed it greedily. “Are you breathing better?” Tony nodded emphatically. “Does your chest hurt?” Tony shook his head. “Hhmm. We’ll see what the tests say,” was all she said as she smiled and started making notes in his chart.
“Oh no. Nurse. I gotta go to the head,” Tony pleaded, holding himself so they wouldn’t notice how he was tenting the sheets.
“We’re done for the time being, but the tech will be in to draw blood and Dr. Pitts is on his way up so make it quick,” she admonished, following her companion and leaving the three men in silence.
“Derek. Gibbs- you called Gibbs?” Tony rasped in confusion.
“No but he was concerned so he came. It’s okay. Are you alright? Do you need me?”
“Yes. H-how long will the tests take?” Tony asked while stroking himself. Then Derek’s hands were there and two fingers were inside of Tony and searching for that spot. Once Derek found what he was looking for, he gently scratched making Tony turn his head and moan brokenly into his pillow. One hand held the sheets while the other gripped Derek’s shoulder as Tony rode out the surprisingly powerful orgasm in near silence. Tony leaned back against the slightly raised headboard breathing deeply.
“How very dignified of you- you hardly made a sound,” Derek said, knowingly. “I thought you were winding down.”
“This is winding down. It’s not as bad as before, but there’s a helluva itch down there,” he laughed it off and did his best not to look at Gibbs. Tony moaned. “Lock the door and turn off the lights so they’ll go away.”
“You know we can’t do that, Tony. You’ll just have to wait until they draw blood and the doctor looks you over. Then we’ll turn off the lights and get busy, baby boy,” Derek promised. “Besides, you said ‘it’s not as bad as before’, right? So deal with it,” he said just as the phlebotomist came into the room, allowing Derek to stealthily move to the bathroom to clean up.
Thirty minutes later Tony was squirming and Dr. Pitt was casually recalling their glory days while Tony begged for help from Gibbs and Derek who seemed to be enjoying his pleading looks a bit too much. Finally, Gibbs cut in, talking to Dr. Pitt about when Tony would be out of there and how much supervision he would need. In a few minutes, Dr. Pitt was out the door just as Morgan’s phone rang.
“Nice to meet you, Brad, and thanks for everything,” Derek said, shaking the doctor’s hand as he answered his phone. “Morgan. Hey, Penelope.” Derek could tell the other two men were listening to his conversation. It was short, but he knew they got the gist of it.
“Where’s Eliot,” Tony asked when Derek approached the bed.
“He’ll be back soon. Meanwhile, none other than Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs will keep you company, okay?” Derek asked, wanting to make sure Tony felt safe.
“B-but, Derek. How soon will he be here? I need him now!” Tony was getting anxious and Derek knew that frantic wasn’t far away.
“Gibbs says he can help you in any way you need. But if you want, I can have the nurse give you something to sleep for a few hours and when you wake up, Eliot will be right here. Right Gibbs?” Gibbs just nodded, but Derek knew that was a grand gesture from the taciturn man.
“You’re gonna be okay and I’m gonna call as soon as I touch down at LAX, but right now, there’s a jet with my name written on it leaving Dulles in an hour,” Derek explained, combing his fingers through Tony’s hair then planting a light kiss at his temple. He looked back at Gibbs and lost all hope that the man would come through for Tony. “I’ll speak to the nurse on my way out and Eliot will be here when you open your eyes.” Derek smiled, but he felt guilty and more than a little angry. After all, hadn’t Hotchner said no cases until he came back? Something didn’t feel right, but he had a job to do and he’d do it. He just hoped Tony would be alright.
~
The Towncar pulled up to the guarded entrance at one thirty and the driver’s window rolled down to reveal a handsome, dark man with an easy smile. “You need military ID or official business to enter the navy yard, sir,” was all the guard said. The chauffer just smiled and rolled down the back window.
“Layman & Shields,” the lady with the cultured southern accent said, showing identification. “We’re here to see our client, who is a political prisoner.”
“Ma’am, you’ll have to wait until normal business hours. NCIS will open-“
“Justice doesn’t sleep and neither does your agent Gibbs. Now, unless you want me to call my partner who’ll wake the SecNav and ruin your military career, I suggest you let me in to see my client.”
“This is Agent Gibbs case, ma’am? I’m sorry, I had no idea,” was all the guard said before giving the guards the signal to open the gate. He figured anyone dropping Gibbs’ name had to be legit and part of Gibbs’ team had come through recently. Besides, it was just like Gibbs to work his team all hours of the night.
~
“Uh, you’re not Jerome,” Abby said to the lady in the guard uniform bumping into her as the elevator opened.
“No. I’m,” there was a slight hesitation as the startled young guard pointed to the embroidered name on her uniform jacket, “Mayes… ma’am. I’m covering Jerome’s shift- it’s his boyfriend’s birthday,” she whispered confidentially, passing Abby and getting on the lift.
“Aren’t you waking me to my car. That’s what Jerome usually does. Now that I think about it, it’s kinda weird he’s gay because he’s always flirting with me. I guess a flirt is a flirt. Maybe he’s bi,” Abby rambled mindlessly to nobody, drifting towards her car as she tried to take her mind off McGee and David. The guard gave a frustrated glare and followed closely behind Abby seeing her get in the car and start it up before doubling back to the elevators with a friendly wave.
~
McGee wasn’t surprised to see only one guard at the front desk when he came to meet the lawyers. “Excuse me for asking, but how did you get in after hours?”
“Why, Agent McGee, we’ve the right to see our client whenever and wherever he is being held- is that not so?” She stood there in some ridiculously priced suit with a silent partner in black Armani and sunglasses.
“I suppose. What’s your name and who is your client, ma’am?”
“Don’t be coy with me, young man. I’m Magnolia Shields from Layman & Shields and I’m here to get Mr. Eliot Spencer-“
“Who told you this Spencer was at the NCIS?” Tim wondered, knowing Eliot had not been allowed to contact anyone. In fact, Eliot wasn’t lawfully being held since they made no reports about his assaulting a federal officer. He was thinking he’d call Gibbs, but only if he couldn’t get them to leave.
“That’s what we’re paid for, agent. Now, are you going to take us to see our client?” She asked but Tim recognized a demand when he heard one. He smirked inside, playing the role of the seasoned but less than in control federal agent.
~
When the interrogation room door swung open, Agent David jumped into action, clicking on the communication switch. “Please move away from the prisoner and remove yourself from the room immediately,” she said, still watching the scene. The custodial worker was hunched over in coveralls and suddenly the intercom was drowned out by the roar of an industrial Bissell. Ziva sighed, realizing she’d have to escort the woman out herself.
“Ms. You can’t be in here with a suspect,” Ziva said, standing in front of the vacuum so the lady looked up. She was twenty something with pink knock off IPod complete with pink and white earbuds, a blonde ponytail, and fuscia lipstick. She continued rolling her hips to the heavy bass in her ears.
“You like that, huh? My baby daddy gave it to me- I can get you one for twenty. He got pink, yellow, black and red.” She gave a gum smacking grin and went on pushing the machine like it was too heavy. Ziva checked again to make sure Spencer was still handcuffed then pulled the plug on the vacuum and stood behind the woman with her hands grabbing the shoulders of the coveralls, pushing the bopping lady out of the room.
“But I gotta clean this whole floor by two thirty. I can’t afford to lose this job ‘cause I just got a good babysitter and that shit’s expensive if you know what I mean,” the lady rambled on and argued for about five minutes until Ziva convinced her to start on the other side of the hall, letting her into a different interrogation room and slipping back in to observe Spencer.
“Ben Zonah!” Ziva exclaimed running to the window then letting herself into the empty interrogation room. She looked around for a few seconds for clues but found none. Ziva ran back into the hall, searching for the talkative custodian. In the next interrogation room she found a cart and nothing else. “Harah!” She cursed, calling McGee. “Spencer has escaped. They are in the vents, McGee, we must find them!”
~
“I can assure you that Mr. Spencer is not in NCIS custody, despite whatever information you might have to the contrary.” Agent McGee said, hanging up his phone. “Please feel free to call on Monday during normal business hours if you need further assistance,” McGee said in a tone that brooked no argument as he gently pushed them toward the entrance. He was a bit surprised that they showed so little resistance, but he was more concerned with getting back to Ziva and their escaped prisoner. He wondered what he would tell Gibbs. McGee was so preoccupied with getting to the elevators that he missed the two figures join the lawyers in the ominous and official looking Towncar that waited at the entrance in the fire lane. One joined the lawyers in the back while the other slid into the front passenger seat as the car pulled off.
“Go to Bethesda,” Eliot demanded as he slid into the car and Hardison drove off.
“To the getaway plane, Alex,” Nathan Ford said smoothly, as if he had no idea that the driver was capable of doing anything other than what he ordered.
“Don’t. Make me hurt you,” Eliot sneered with a wicked smile that said he’d enjoy doing the hurting. Alex Hardison took the beltway to Bethesda Memorial without hesitation.
“What about ‘Hi, Alex. How was your weekend?’ I just left a beautiful Brazilian model to rescue yo’ ass from federal custody so we can run off and save some more white people half way across the country. How about a ‘thank you, Alex’! No. You’re too preoccupied with your friend in the hospital- isn’t your friend the one that got you locked up, Eliot? I know what you’re problem is; you ain’t got the good sense your mama gave, Eliot. You just gonna sit down and start demanding a brother take you somewhere? This ain’t Driving Miss Daisy, Eliot. I know you’re a southern man, but I always thought you were above all that racial-“
“Shut up, Hardison,” the whole car cut in reflexively. Just when the driver took in air to let out another tirade, Parker sang out.
“I loved my uniforms, Hardison, especially the knock off IPod. Bitchin’ soundtrack, man,” she beamed.
“Thank you, Parker. See? Is it really that hard to show some appreciation around here?” Hardison demanded as he merged onto the beltway.
~
Gibbs was willing to help Tony, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to have sex in a hospital unless it was absolutely necessary so he let the nurse give Tony the sedative intravenously. “Would you like a more comfortable chair?” she asked Gibbs, giving him an innocent smile that he did his best to ignore.
“I’m fine, thanks,” he said, knowing he could count on her to call him in the future. If he had to put up with her being a match maker then so be it. She looked at Tony then winked at Gibbs and closed the door.
“You still want those lights out?” Gibbs asked, watching Tony discreetly masturbate in the dimly lit hospital room.
“Yeah,” Tony half moaned, wondering if Gibbs could see in the dark.
“Because I was hoping to leave a little light so I could see what I’m doing. I’m kind of new to this,” Gibbs words were self deprecating, but his actions were sure and almost aggressive. He moved to the bed and sat next to Tony’s hips, leaning over him and placing a hand on either side of the startled man.
“New to what?”
“Morgan says you need to get off. In fact, he says you need to get off until you fall into an orgasm induced coma. Lucky for us your next knock out is one the way,” Gibbs smiled, looking at the drip feeding the tube running into Tony’s veins. Tony’s eyelids were already blinking slowly and he could tell the younger man was relaxing. “How about I give you a good send off?” Gibbs said, placing his hand on Tony’s stomach and rubbing firmly above the bed sheets and hospital gown. Just that sent Tony moaning and his hips doing an involuntary spasm. When he felt the warm and calloused hands below the flimsy gown, Tony jerked away reflexively.
“You don’t have to boss. I don’t know what Morgan told you, but I’m fine. You don’t have to… don’t, please don’t… I can’t,” but now Tony wasn’t sure if he was pleading with Gibbs to stop or begging him to never stop. Tony had closed his eyes for over a minute when he realized Gibbs found lubrication and was working the head if Tony’s cock into a slick frenzy. Tony opened his legs, trying to get the left one around Gibbs waist in a less than subtle plea to be fucked. Gibbs accepted Tony’s leg but remained seated where he was, refusing to move into a position that satisfied the squirming patient. When Tony started making a keening noise of frustration, Gibbs had enough.
“ Tony. Where does it hurt?” He asked, pushing a finger passed the puckered entrance and looking a bit too intently at the moaning man who just closed his eyes and moved both hands to stroke himself.
“Deeper, you’re close,” Tony moaned, jerking his hips to help Gibbs get there sooner. “Push forward… up- OHYES! There. Yeah,” Tony gave a broken sob, rotating his hips wantonly as Gibbs worked the jumble of nerves mercilessly.
“Use the lube,” he told Tony but it was like he didn’t hear. Gibbs didn’t like the brutal strokes the Italian gave himself. They didn’t seem to be getting Tony any closer to coming, so Gibbs figured a lighter touch was needed. “Stop,” Gibbs demanded and when Tony didn’t, he withdrew the two fingers from Tony’s ass. Suddenly, Tony’s hands stilled on his shaft. “Now hold the pillow on either side of your head,” Gibbs instructed and Tony obeyed with trembling limbs. Gibbs squirted a line of hospital lubricant onto Tony and began to stroke him with a firm and slow twist. After a few torturous seconds and several snaps of Tony’s hips, Gibbs had three fingers rubbing in Tony and making him beg in Italian.
“Piu. Piu duro, si,” Tony mumbled, reaching out for Gibbs but finding the man too far to hold. He caught that intense, ice blue gaze and held on tight staring Gibbs in the eye as he stumbled over the edge. Tony’s eyes rolled back and his hands reflexively went to his spurting manhood, but Gibbs didn’t let up. He kept milking Tony over and over, gently pumping until the cock no longer jerked and flinched. Gibbs was a bit surprised when Tony just kept fucking the tangle of hands, using his come as lube. He noticed that the orgasm had relaxed Tony enough that he seemed to be close to sleep, but Gibbs stroked on until he was sure. “Don’t stop, yeah… yeah- Eliot?” Tony whispered, his eyes fluttering to open fully and see the figure standing in the door right before slipping over the edge again. This time, Gibbs removed his fingers from Tony’s ass, wiping them on the hospital sheets. When his phone rang he answered it, not bothering to look toward the door.
“Let me guess; you lost Spencer,” Gibbs said, hanging up the phone.
Old Friends by joblo
Author's Chapter Notes:
"You’re Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs. You can do anything, right? And now you’re going to replace Eliot." Morgan had no patience for being anything other than direct.