Written for the NFA hurt/comfort challenge but with a slightly different ending. See my profile for a link to the other entries.

Dog Tags Tag

The sound of violent thumping on the front door brought Jethro to his feet. Tony looked up, sighed and gave McGee an apologetic look. "I'll be right back."

Tony hurried to the front door as both the frequency and ferocity of the hammering increased, Jethro bouncing joyously at his heels. Reaching the doorknob he heard a familiar voice call out, "Open up McGee, I know you're in there."

Tony exchanged glances with the now deliriously happy dog at his feet. There was no denying it, the beast loved Abby.

The knocking began again in earnest until Tony managed to shout it down with, "OK, OK, I'm here" while wrestling with the handle. As the door finally gave, Abby nearly fell on top of him.

"Where's McGee," she demanded. Without waiting for an answer, she collapsed to one knee and cupped Jethro's face in her hands. "I just wanted to make sure he's taking good care of you," she crooned. "Is he taking good care of you, is he, is he?"

She stood again and looked Tony in the eye. "Just making sure he hasn't `accidentally' killed any harmless creatures that might happen to be in his care in self-defence," she remarked briskly.

"McGee's not killing anyone, today Abs," Tony retorted. "His bites got infected. Ducky has him on stronger antibiotics. I'm on chauffeur and clinical duty."

"Have you been cooped up in here all day then," Abby sang lovingly to Jethro, bending to ruffle the top of the dog's head. "Hasn't he taken you out for any exercise today then? No exercise? No exercise, my poor little..."

"Cujo has been at doggy day-care all day, Abs," said Tony, non-plussed. "We picked him up on the way home. Ever tried to fit a German Sheppard and two guys into a Boxster? The leather seats will never be the same."

Abby ignored him. "But he is so worth it," she smiled at the dog. "So worth it. Are you so worth it? Are you?"

Tony shook his head in bewilderment and made good his escape to the bedroom. Alert to any movement, Jethro bounded after him followed by the still doting Abby.

Abby came to a screeching halt as she reached the bedroom doorway and caught her first sight of McGee. Flushed and fevered, he was slumped listlessly on the side of the bed in what was almost a sitting position still dressed in his work clothes with his shirt front gaping open. Bandages, tape, antiseptic and scissors surrounded him and his shoes lay beside his feet. Even from a few feet away, she could feel the damp, sweaty heat emanating from his tortured body.

"Abby?" McGee rasped, barely raising his head. "What are you doing here?"

"She's just checking on you," said Tony ambiguously as he took hold of McGee's shirt.

Abby cringed as she watched Tony carefully remove McGee's shirt, wincing in synchronised sympathy. Once the shirt was removed, she could see clearly the two injury sites: a section of McGee's neck covered by a small white rectangular gauze pad and his lower left arm encased by a thick bandage. She gasped involuntarily as Tony peeled back the gauze pad to reveal a deep puncture wound: ragged flesh fringed with clearly visible tooth marks.

"Jethro," she scolded faintly, "did you do that?"

Jethro whimpered shamefully and lowered his head.

"He was going for the kill," said Tony, "but McGee fended him off." Tony turned to Jethro and mimicked Abby, "Tried to sever his carotid artery, didn't you, didn't you?"

"Tony," Abby scolded.

Tony rolled his eyes at her and returned his attention to McGee's wounds.

McGee drew a sharp breath as Tony applied antiseptic to the wound but said nothing, wearily accepting his fate; a picture of abject misery.

"You're burning up here, Probie," Tony remarked as he peeled the backing from a fresh gauze pad.

"Ducky gave me something for it," McGee croaked.

"Abby," Tony said quietly, "water for the Probie."

Abby attempted a light-hearted salute but her worried eyes were fixed on McGee.

When she returned, Tony was carefully unwinding the long crepe bandage that cocooned McGee's left arm. The top layer was a fresh crisp white but as he unfurled each layer upon layer, spots of red began to appear. Each cycle, the blood stains grew in number until finally the material was a deep sodden red. When the last of it was finally removed, all that was left was angry red skin: torn and mangled in places which wept a mixture of watery blood and serum.

Abby watched McGee's face as Tony cleaned the wounds. His eyes remained closed but she could see him grinding his teeth against the pain of Tony's ministrations. Her heart ached to see him suffering so greatly. The wounds were so ghastly that even Tony's stream of humour had dried up.

Once he had finished, Tony picked up a fresh, clean bandage and re-bandaged the arm with such tenderness that it brought tears to Abby's eyes.

She waited in reverent silence until Tony had finished then hesitantly offered the water she had brought. Tony took it from her and positioned it at McGee's lower lip. "Drink, Probie," he urged.

McGee opened his eyes blearily and took the cup in his good hand. With Tony's help, he managed to raise it unsteadily to his lips and risk a clumsy sip. The effort visibly drained him.

"I need to lie down, Tony," said McGee quietly.

Tony passed the cup to Abby without looking and grasped McGee by the shoulders as he listed to one side: by the heavy breathing, he was already asleep. The mattress sagged as Tony lowered McGee's torso to a horizontal position and gathered his legs to join it.

Once McGee looked comfortable, Tony took a moment to stretch his back before gathering the old bandages and equipment and motioning Abby to follow him out of the bedroom. Jethro settled beside the bed to keep vigil.

"His arm looked so bad," Abby whimpered as Tony shut the door quietly and washed his hands in the kitchen sink.

"Yeah, well – a trained Police dog high on cocaine can do that to you."

"I just can't believe he shot Jethro," she said simply. "If the rest of you had got there while Jethro was still attacking him, would you have shot Jethro?"

Tony looked at her levelly. "Me? No."

"See," Abby began.

"I wouldn't have shot him," Tony cut her off, turning from her to collect his bag, "because Gibbs would have shot him first."

"Gibbs wouldn't…"

Tony spun to stare at her. "Do you really believe that?"

Abby averted her eyes. "No"

"Face it Abs," Tony serious tone forced her to make eye contact, "McGee saved that dog's life. If he hadn't shot him one of us would have killed him, no question about it."

"Really?"

"Really and if he'd got away, the knife point lodged in his body would have killed him the next day."

Tony regarded Abby for a moment. She had reverted again to one of her child-like states of denial which was fine when it didn't hurt anyone but here in the real world where people's lives were on the line…"Hey," he said forcefully, "if some drug-crazed mutt was ripping me to shreds, I'd expect my team to shot it's psycho, hairy little butt stone cold dead, Abs. Wouldn't you?"

"Well, dogs love me."

"You're avoiding the point, Abs."

"I know."

"It was McGee or the dog, Abs," said Tony, "simple as that." He slung his backpack over his shoulder, barely concealing his impatience with her. "Ducky said to let him rest but I'll be back in the morning to check on him."

"Do you mind if I stay a bit?"

Tony could see remorse finally starting to seed in her. "OK, but don't disturb him or Ducky will have my head."

Abby followed Tony to the door and locked it securely behind him. Passing a critical eye over the state of McGee's kitchen, she made her way back into the bedroom and curled up on the chair McGee kept by the bed. There she sat, Jethro at her feet, watching as McGee slept fitfully, pain etched across his face. She knew in her heart McGee had done what he needed to do but she could was not sure she could ever forgive him for shooting a defenceless animal. Well, almost defenceless.

She had to admit Tony was right: if McGee hadn't put a bullet in Jethro then either: Gibbs would have shot him dead, Tony would have shot him dead, Ziva would have killed him with some combination of ninja knives or he just would have died from the knife point left in his body. McGee's shot was the only thing that brought Jethro to the medical care he needed.

Abby smiled sadly at McGee looking so sick on the bed. She remembered how frightened she was when she first saw his injures and how quickly that emotion evaporated when she heard that he had shot an innocent dog. What was that feeling she had now - guilt?

"I'm sorry," she whispered quietly.

McGee's eyebrows rose slightly but his eyes did not open. "No," he said quietly, "I'm sorry."

Abby frowned. "No McGee - I'm sorry."

A dull smile passed over McGee's lips. "Always have to have the last word, don't you?" he whispered.

"No I don't!"

McGee's smile grew momentarily and then faded from view.

Abby waited a few minutes to make sure he was really asleep. Then she leaned forward and whispered very quietly, "I'm sorry."

Author note - according to my research, infected dog bites are treated with oral antibiotics and do not require hospitalisation. Maybe us Aussies are just tougher than the rest of you :) or our health system is worse :(. To make JMK758 happy, he's become less injured.