Five.

"He has a skull fracture—a closed skull fracture, to be specific, meaning there is not an accompanying wound to the skin, so it's only normal that he wouldn't have realized the seriousness of his injury. At most, he probably thought it was a bad migraine due to the lack of blood." The doctor explained to the odd-looking group of people waiting on her patient. "My guess would be a severe blow to the head caused this fracture. There isn't any internal bleeding, we took CAT scans, all we can do now is wait on him to regain consciousness and keep him medicated for the pain. There isn't much we can do for a closed skull fracture except wait to see if there's any permanent brain damage—although it's not a high possibility, seeing as how you two," she pointed to Ziva and McGee, "said that he wasn't acting very out of character before he was brought into the ER."

The doctor went onto explain that Tonys' room would be set up shortly and one of the nurses would inform them where to go if they wanted to see their co-worker. As Dr. O'Hara strode off to see to her other patients, she looked back subtlety at the strange lot in the waiting room. The one who stood out almost blatantly was the tall Goth dressed completely in black. She had pig-tails and a catholic schoolgirl skirt, a 'The Rocky and Horror Picture Show' t-shirt on, under a contradicting starch ivory lab coat. The Goths' ink black combat boots with tiny skull charms sewed on, were just the thing to complete this eccentric attire—an attire which Dr. O'Hara couldn't seem to get over. Besides standing out the most out of the bunch, the Goth was the most openly hysterical over her patient. The dark mascara she'd painted on that morning was running down her face, a clear sign she'd been crying on the way to the hospital.

There was the peculiar, short, elderly man, also sporting a white lab coat, with a unique accent, and a neat little red bow tie; Dr. O'Hara could tell he was the major mother-hen in the group, trying to assure everyone that her patients' prognosis was good, that all would be well. But she could easily spot the worry lines on the older mans' brow.

A timid but all the same worried man in his early thirties, the doctor guessed, paced the small corridor—like the Goth, the blonde couldn't hide his angst nearly as well as the others. Although Dr. O'Hara was pretty sure her patient was at least a couple of years younger than the man pacing back and forth, she couldn't help but think he resembled a younger brother, anxious and concerned over the condition of his big bro. Dr. O'Hara shook her head; maybe she was looking too into the whole thing?

The NCIS group drew her attention, however. Stock still, in a most eerie fashion, stood a woman—perhaps Arabic?—the doctor guessed, her arms crossed over her chest, fists tucked into her underarms. Anger was radiating off of her in violent waves, that much was obvious. She had on an NCIS cap, and its' shadow loomed over her face; the only visible thing was her mouth, which was marred into an awful grimace. Dr. O'Hara shuddered. She'd hate to be on this womans' bad side…

Last, she spotted another silent member of the group. By the haircut, right off the bat, she deduced he was probably in the army, although she couldn't pinpoint any branches, exactly. He was an attractive man, with a good build for anyone his age. Unlike his counterpart leaning up against the wall, though, he didn't appear to be upset. He had the look of someone guilty for murder, in fact. Dr. O'Hara was in the midst of wondering just what that was all about, when her pager beeped and she rolled her eyes, "Right, doctor, not detective." She nodded to herself and quickly sprinted to where her interns needed her to be.

A young nurse in light purple scrubs led Gibbs' people to Tonys' room. "He should be waking up soon—it's often hard to tell with head injuries, however, so don't be alarmed if he sleeps through the night." He informed the team as he pointed out which room it was. "Usually only two at a time are allowed in, but seeing as Agent DiNozzo has the room all to himself, as long as you're all quiet, there's no reason for you all not to go in and see him."

"How the heck did this happen?" Abby inquired. "We haven't had an active case all day!" she played with Tonys' hair very carefully; her butt sat on the edge of the hospital bed.

Ziva grimaced. "He was feeling sick earlier today; he upchucked in the trash can by his desk in the bullpen."

"Oh my!" Ducky exclaimed. "Well why on Earth wasn't I informed?" he took on the role of a chastising parent with ease, and examined the faces of the three members of Gibbs team until he found a guilty one in the bunch. Zivas' jaw set, and her tense body language indicated how beyond pissed she was, Timothys' timid posture, the way he kept glancing back and forth between Ducky and Tonys' prone body meant he could have been the poster boy for innocent bystander, and Gibbs—he looked absolutely stricken.

"Apparently, it was "a waste of time"; his words, not mine." Ziva gestured towards her Boss.

"Jethro?" Ducky inquired surprise evident on his face.

"He and I knocked into each other at the elevator and he must've hit his head when he fell." Jethro was too shamed to tell any of the team that he hadn't bothered checking to see if DiNozzo had been okay and had even had the audacity to blame him for something that had clearly been an accident on both their parts. "When he got sick at the bull pen I didn't really think much of it—"

"You have been picking on Tony, who has not done a thing to anger you, all day!" Ziva blew up, and if looks could kill, Leroy Jethro Gibbs would have been dead in the waiting room five minutes ago. "Of course you did not think much of it when Tony started up chucking at his desk after you were done threatening to fire him—I do not believe you were thinking at all!" With that, the mossad agent got up from her plastic chair next to Tonys' hospital bed and stormed out of the room, fists clenched tightly at her sides.

"Bossman," Abby gawked, wide-eyed lamb-look a permanent fixture on her face. "Why would you do that to Tony?"

In the hospital bed Tony began to toss and turn and all attention was drawn to the senior field agent.

"Tony?"

"Junior!"

Tony started, huddled into a crook between the stairs and the wall like some frightened small thing. It didn't matter how well he hid though, the man always found him. He could hear the echoes of his footsteps, smell the liquor on his breath—he was close.

The six year old couldn't think of anything he might have done today that might earn him a beating. He'd been on his best behavior, quiet and polite, even when they didn't have guests over, he'd even stopped socializing with the help—his father thought it was uncouth.

"Junior!"

Tony winced involuntarily. That mans' voice alone could strike fear into his very soul.

"Tony!"

"Gibbs…" the child uttered softly. That was definitely Gibbs' voice! Scrambling out of his hiding place with haste, Tony ran to find his boss—surely Gibbs would protect him from—

"Something wrong with your hearing DiNozzo?" The older man seemed to appear out of thin air.

"Boss!" the six year old could have cried, he was so elated to see Gibbs.

"I asked you a question, DiNozzo." There was a dark edge to Gibbs' voice that Tony only ever heard him use with suspects.

The child grew despondent, standing rigidly, head down. "S-sorry Boss." He stuttered.

His shadow besieged Tonys' small frame almost entirely. "I didn't ask for an apology, Junior!" Tonys' eyes widened, and he lifted his head up in time to see his fathers' malevolent face, right before his hand came crashing down on the right side of his face. The impact was brutal and hard enough that the six year old stumbled back a good couple of steps. Blood was flowing freely from his mouth and nose and his cheek stung fiercely.

Where was Gibbs? Why had his Boss turned into this monster? This monster that took so much pleasure in deliberately tormenting him everyday…

His father lifted him up by the collar of his shirt, slammed his against the wall and kicked him while he was down.

Gibbs appeared again, and through a haze of violent kicks and ridiculing taunts, Tony saw a ray of hope. "Boss…" but his voice was drowned out in the outbursts of his father and it hurt to speak. He tried reaching out for Gibbs. Why wasn't he saying anything? Why was he just watching? Unless—did he think Tony had done something to deserve this?

Gibbs! He tried to yell, but it was no use, his voice wouldn't cooperate with him and Gibbs just stood there, arms crossed, glaring at the child with merciless eyes while Anthony DiNozzo Senior beat the living hell out of him.

It was humiliating, having his boss watch him in such a desperate state, and worse even, terrifying to have Gibbs there, so close, within reach, not lifting a single finger to help him.

"I do believe he's rousing awake."

"Tony?" McGees' hand brushed against the senior field agents' as he stirred.

Startled, wide, ivy green eyes stared up at the group of people standing above him.

Abby leaned over the railing of the bed, and everyone was surprised to hear the frightened little yelp Tony let out as she neared. Upon further inspection, the team could see that he looked absolutely stricken with terror.

"Anthony, dear…" Ducky trailed off, when it was evident that any contribution made would only have ill effects on the already panicky young man, as he sunk further and further into the cushion of the hospital bed, in a futile attempt to get away from them. He tried again, stepping back and gesturing for Timothy and Abigail to give him some space as well. "Anthony, what is the matter?" he inquired, worry seeping in his tone.

Tony looked a little apathetic towards the doctor and ignored the question, gazing about the room slowly, frowning slightly, his brow creasing. "Gibbs," he managed to croak out, "Where's Gibbs?"

Jethro hadn't exactly tried to stay out of sight, and couldn't even if he'd tried, in the cramped, crowded room, and was mildly shocked to think Tony had skimmed over him in the first place. "I'm right here Tony." He stepped forward, albeit reluctantly.

The brunette hesitantly reached out for the older man, and Jethro felt his heart thud painfully in his chest for a moment, but couldn't jot down the specific emotion. He stumbled forward and Tonys' lithe fingers carefully traced the ridges and lines on Gibbs' face, never making full solid contact, simply dim, feather light touches.

Abby, Ducky, and McGee all felt as if they were intruding in on some delicate, private moment meant for their eyes alone, and awkwardly looked away, shuffling some feet back.

"Gibbs…" Tony uttered again, so softly that the three other members of team Gibbs nearly didn't catch his next words. "Who are you?"

A.N. I have excuses as to the ridiculously long interval between updates but no one wants to hear a teen blab on about her angsty life, so I will just apologize severely right now and thank you all soooo much for being patient with me! I've finally got some free time now so I'm trying to dish out a chapter for all my fics tonight and then some, hopefully! BTW, I'll try not to leave this one of those melodramatic cliff hangers and update this story again later tonight (as I am clearly super behind...)!