Intervention

Summary: Ducky confronts Gibbs about his actions in Requiem. Warning: spanking of an adult. Don't like? Don't read!

Disclaimer: I don't own them, I'm just playing with them

Warning: this story is part of a discipline series and contains the non-sexual spanking of an adult. If you have a problem with that, click on that 'back' button now. You've been warned.

'I've already told you: I'm fine. There is absolutely nothing wrong with me. So discharge me already and let me... Ducky! Would you please tell them to let me go home?'

'Anthony, you know full well that you have to be particularly careful about damaging your lungs any further. So get back in that bed and wait for Dr. Pitt to finish running his tests and clear you.'

'But I feel fine!'

'Yes, you do. And we want to make sure that it stays that way. Now be a good patient and I will make sure that you get a lollipop later.'

DiNozzo reluctantly complied, screwing up his nose at the implication that he was behaving like a child.

'And what if I'm not a good patient, Ducky? I can sign myself out AMA, you know.'

They both knew it was an empty threat – he'd never be cleared to return to active duty without the doctors' say-so. Ducky responded anyway.

'Well, I would expect Jethro to have something to 'say' about that.... wait a minute... where is Jethro? I thought he'd be here...'

'Haven't seen him since yesterday, Ducky. I figured they weren't letting go of him, either.'

'Oh, he was released over an hour ago. I was sure he'd stop by and see you before he went home... of course, he should be stopping by to thank you, but I suppose that is out of the question...'

Tony made a show of rearranging his pillows and pulling his blanket up farther, but Ducky knew he was just trying to cover his disappointment that Gibbs had apparently left without even checking on his senior agent's condition.

'S'ok, Ducky. He probably had things he needed to do...'

The arrival of the unfortunately named Dr. Brad Pitt, who had treated Tony during his bout of the plague and who continued to take an interest in the state of his lungs – too keen an interest, in Tony's opinion – prevented any further speculation about Gibbs's motives. The two doctors talked about him for a few minutes, ignoring his protests, and then Ducky left him in the specialist's capable hands.

X X X

Gibbs sat on the floor of his basement, nursing an almost-untouched glass of bourbon. He'd reburied Kelly's lunchbox, but hadn't entirely decided whether he'd ever dig it up again, someday. He was still lost in thought when he heard footsteps on the stairs and looked up to see a very irate Ducky glowering at him.

'Took you long enough, Duck. You're usually here as soon as I get out of the hospital.'

'Yes, well, I've been kept busy making sure that your senior field agent is going to live long enough to be discharged himself.'

Gibbs stared up at him in absolute shock.

'Tony's in the hospital? What's wrong?'

There was genuine concern in his voice, but it did nothing to temper the vehemence of Ducky's response.

'What's wrong is that he took an unscheduled swim in cold, polluted water, which would have been enough to keep a perfectly healthy man in hospital overnight, and could easily have caused very serious complications for someone who has survived pneumonic plague! As you bloody well should have realised yourself!'

Gibbs was already on his feet, clearly planning to head back to the hospital. He'd been so wrapped up in trying to lay old ghosts to rest that he'd ignored the living, but now he was obviously worried about the younger man.

'Oh, you needn't bother now, Jethro. Dr. Pitt is with him, running a few more tests, and I expect it will be several hours before Tony's able to receive visitors.'

Gibbs looked at him expectantly, annoyed that Ducky was apparently going to make him actually ask how Tony was doing. The ME did continue, but it wasn't what Gibbs was expecting to hear.

'What in God's name where you thinking, Jethro? I know you have something of a hero complex, and I can understand why you would want to be there for Kelly's friend, especially since you weren't able to be there for Kelly, but I fail to see why you decided that you had to do it alone, without backup, and without even telling your team where you were going or what you were going to do! It was sheer dumb luck that Tony happened to be there, or your utter stupidity would have cost you and that young woman your lives!'

'I wasn't exactly doing it by the book, Ducky. I didn't want anyone else involved because I couldn't ask them to risk their careers for my problems.'

'It would hardly be the first time your team chose to make sure someone had your back, by the book or not. But, honestly Jethro... it wasn't your problem. Yes, it landed on your desk because of a personal connection, but it was a legitimate case, not a favour for a family friend. There was no good reason for you not to treat it as a case. The only one making it personal, was you.'

'It was something I had to do, Duck. I'd do it again...'

'Yes, that's what I'm afraid of. You don't even see that you were wrong, and you certainly don't plan to do anything differently the next time you find yourself with a desire to play cowboy.'

Gibbs shot him one of his hard looks that always had Tony scrambling for cover and moved to push past him towards the stairs, planning on heading to the hospital despite the warning that Tony would be tied up with procedures for the foreseeable future. To his surprise, the older man stepped directly into his path.

'You know full well how you would have responded if one of your boys had pulled a stunt like that one yesterday. If you've forgotten that reckless and irresponsible haring off on your own is no more acceptable for you than it is for them, then it's high time someone reminded you.'

'Duck...'

'Don't you 'Duck' me, Jethro! I warned you what I would do if your pig-headedness resulted in injury, and I'd say it definitely has... your own, Tony's, and a civilian's. We won't consider those mercenaries who might have been taken alive, if you had followed proper procedures...'

'Not exactly a drunken boat-building injury, Ducky.'

Ducky smirked; the protest proved that Gibbs remembered the conversation to which he'd just alluded.

'I don't remember restricting it to that context, Jethro. Come on, let's get it over with.'

Gibbs was speechless. Ducky seriously thought he was going to let him spank him? The roles had been reversed, once, but Ducky had taken the initiative, seeking a way to assuage his own feelings of guilt. That was a far cry from the unilateral imposition of punishment that the ME was now proposing. Gibbs didn't feel guilty about the choices he'd made, apart from regret that Tony was possibly ill because of them; he certainly didn't feel any need to be spanked because of his actions. And while there were a few people from whom he would accept that kind of punishment without hesitation, despite his own views on its necessity, his friend was not one of them.

Nor, he thought, was his current 'CO'; Jen would forever be his probie, and he'd accepted her discipline in the past only because she had backed him into a rhetorical corner. Those he was prepared willingly to submit to in that way were all part of his past, he realised; there was no one he respected that way currently in a position to exercise any real disciplinary authority over his actions. But, while he recognised that such perceived immunity from consequences could be problematic, or even dangerous, in others, he didn't see it as something he needed to address in his own life.

'Not gonna happen, Ducky,' he asserted, when he recovered his voice.

'Oh, I assure you, it is, Jethro. Someone has to keep you from destroying yourself and taking your team with you, since you clearly are incapable of exercising enough self-control to manage it on your own. Now, it would probably be best if you give me your belt...'

Ducky paused for breath, gesturing apologetically at the suspenders he wore.

'Not a chance, Duck...'

'Unless, of course, you still have that makeshift 'cane' lying around here somewhere.'

'Not happening, Ducky.'

'Come now, Jethro, dragging it out isn't going to make it any easier.'

Gibbs shook his head in disbelief; the message that he wasn't going along with this didn't seem to be getting through.

'I can, of course, order you to co-operate.'

'Think you're a bit confused about the chain of command, there, Ducky.'

'Oh, I think not. I'm sure you are aware that, even in the military, the medical officer is the highest authority in medical matters? Even the Captain of a ship is required to follow his orders...'

Gibbs cut him off before he could expand on the issue at his usual length.

'Uh-huh... and this isn't a medical matter.'

'Oh, it most certainly is. Consider it a prophylactic effort to avoid serious injury in the future. Or, at the very least, it is a response to a troubling psychological habit that needs to be addressed.'

Gibbs didn't even bother to respond and, tiring of the conversation, made to sidestep around the irate older man and head upstairs.

'Or how about this, Agent Gibbs? One word from me and the Director will have no choice but to suspend you pending a psychological evaluation. Which, given your recent behaviour, I don't think you can assume you will pass...'

Gibbs stopped mid-step and turned to face his friend.

'You wouldn't.'

'Try me. Contrary to popular belief, there are worse things to endure than a pissed-off Leroy Jethro Gibbs... and I would infinitely prefer you to be annoyed with me, than for you to be dead because of your own foolhardiness. Now hand over your belt.'

The steely look in Ducky's eyes told Gibbs that he meant every word. He still thought a spanking was completely unnecessary, but if it meant that much to Ducky... hell, he probably still owed him a couple of good punches for the way he'd acted when he'd 'retired' last year, and if a few swats on the ass was what it would take to appease his friend now... well, why not?

His decision made, Gibbs pulled his belt from its loops and held it out. Ducky took it, folded it in half, and gestured impatiently at the work bench. Gibbs turned resolutely on his heel and leaned forward, still somewhat perplexed by Ducky's insistence.

He was barely in position when he felt the first lash searing into his ass. The blow was hard, precisely delivered, and left no doubt that Ducky knew what he was doing. The next stroke followed a few seconds later; long enough to make him wait for the next burst of pain, but not long enough for the pain to subside between blows. Gibbs held on tightly to the edge of the rough work surface and clenched his teeth together in an effort to maintain a Marine's stoicism. The lashes fell repeatedly and the pain continued to build until Gibbs was breathing heavily and staying silent only with difficulty. Still they didn't stop, and Gibbs wondered frantically just how many Ducky was planning to give him. Two particularly hard strokes in quick succession finally drew a gasp of pain, and he shouted 'Dammit, Duck! Enough already!'

Ducky had apparently been waiting for him to acknowledge that it hurt; the whipping stopped immediately.

'You are not infallible, Jethro. Nor are you expendable. You need to do some hard thinking about "the burden of your Messianic complex", as Timothy so eloquently put it, and I would suggest you do it on a hard hospital chair and prevent Tony from thinking you've abandoned him entirely, but you're going to have to decide that for yourself.'

With that, Ducky dropped Gibbs's belt on the boat and left.

Gibbs swallowed the rest of his almost-forgotten drink and stared at the basement door as if he expected his friend to return. His ass was on fire, and an unexpected and very unwelcome uncertainty flitted around the edges of his mind, making him wonder if Ducky was right about his usual disregard for his own safety blinding him, letting him put others' lives in danger. Half an hour ago, he'd had no doubts about his decision to go after Maddie, and he would never have imagined Ducky whipping him.

What the hell had just happened?