They don't have time for this.

Shaking his head in irritation Gibbs takes himself off to a dimly lit corner of the room. He hopes restricting his view of the childish spectacle taking place on Ducky's autopsy table will help quell his rapidly rising anger. He's likely to give DiNozzo a concussion with his next headslap if it doesn't.

It doesn't. He can still hear the whining and that's just as irritating.

Leaning back against the side of a steel cabinet Gibbs keeps his slapping hand busy by impatiently checking his watch. Tapping the glass cover he notes that seventeen minutes have passed since they first walked through the automatic sliding doors. That's seventeen minutes he could have spent interrogating their suspect. Seventeen minutes he could have spent tracking down their missing marine. Instead it was seventeen minutes wasted witnessing an ex Royal Army Medical Corps Doctor play pediatrician to his supposed Senior Field Agent.

They shouldn't even be here.

Five months. Five months since Tony recovered from the plague. Five months since Kate. It was cruel irony that fate gave him one back, only to take the other away without warning. Gibbs stared straight ahead, looking through the blank grey autopsy wall to try and catch a glimpse of how things used to be. He couldn't capture the image though. All he could remember was the overwhelming feeling of pain and loss, of not one but two people he cared about.

In the early stages of Tony's battle with the plague, after Ducky had read the note in the envelope, but before he knew the virus was dead, Gibbs had feared the worst. Feared that the next time he went home it would be alone, with the knowledge that Tony wouldn't grace him with his presence in the basement ever again. Then a miracle occurred. His worst fears were countered and while sanding one night with Tony freshly home from hospital comfortably positioned at the bottom of the stairs, he felt something he'd not felt in over a decade… lucky.

A week later he felt bereft and he felt cheated. He'd never had the chance to fear for Kate.

Back in the present Gibbs hears the distinctive hollow clang of metal hitting a hard surface and spins around to see Ducky picking up a silver tray and several instruments from the autopsy floor. Tony's arms are folded stubbornly across his chest, lips drawn into a fine line, embarrassed gaze directed up at the ceiling. No words are spoken, their eyes meet but Ducky shakes his head, warning him off. Gibbs immediately turns his back, once again leaning on the steel cabinet to stare at the wall, and hearing several softly spoken platitudes in a British accent bites his lip. Feeling the familiar spark of impatience rise within, he holds his breath until the frantic beating in his chest calms to merely a dull throb. To distract from his homicidal thoughts he rechecks his watch.

Eighteen minutes.

Shit. He noisily pushes away from the cabinet and paces', holding back his anger the best he can despite knowing the longer Tony drags this out the bigger and harder the next headslap's going to be. So he hadn't intentionallygotten soaked through to the skin chasing their Petty Officer suspect in torrential rain, and he hadn't meant to lose his footing on the jetty and fall into the Potomac forcing Gibbs to drag both him and the petty officer out. But field work came with risks and when you've had the plague those risks included, but were by no means limited to, the common cold. The minute he sneezed Tony should have known damn well he was going to be submitting to whatever tests Ducky deemed necessary. It shouldn't have taken a worried McGee pulling him out of MTAC to tell him DiNozzo was still sat dripping wet at his desk. And it certainly shouldn't have taken Gibbs escorting him down to autopsy to ensure he actually went.

'Better not to risk it Jethro.' Ducky had lamented upon him producing one very sorry looking recently dried and changed Anthony DiNozzo Jr. for a check-up. He'd agreed with Ducky, and of course Tony had not, which brings them to their current standoff, whereas Tony is being irrationally stubborn and Gibbs is fast losing any semblance of rational thought he ever possessed.

Nineteen minutes.

His annoyance is reaching new heights and while Ducky continues with his softly-softly approach he's ready to drop kick Tony into his car so fast headslaps will be the least of his worries once he gets him home. But Gibbs can't afford to send him home, the team needs Tony on the case, needs him healthy, and that's the only reason he isn't walking away to fetch his car keys right the hell now.

Twenty minutes.

Gibbs ups the speed of his pacing, trying to release some of the adrenalin building up in his veins alongside his boiling blood. He's half a mind to tell Ducky to forget it, let him get a damn cold and see how stubborn he is when he gets so sick he's ringing him because he needs help just to sit up, let alone breathe! Tempting as it is to just walk away and teach Tony that lesson Gibbs knows it's never going to happen. No flu shot means no field work and no field work means one very miserable very special Agent who he certainly isn't going to be listening to complain day in day out until he recovers. So if Tony doesn't want to be riding a desk down in evidence inventory for the foreseeable future he needs to let Ducky stick him with the needle. Now!

A quick glance to the left and Gibbs sees Tony is still shaking his head withholding his arm and Ducky is still trying to sweet-talk him into accepting it. Irritation reaching maximum capacity, his patience finally runs out.

"Hold your damn arm out, DiNozzo!"

Gibbs' sudden shout has both friends jumping in surprise, but he advances so quickly Tony doesn't have a chance to escape the iron clad grip he takes to his wrist as he saddles up beside him on the autopsy table. Expecting a struggle Gibbs wraps his free arm around Tony's back and waist pinning him bodily to his side while securing the arm required for the injection stretched out ready. Tony's bewildered cry at the rough treatment has no effect as Gibbs rolls his sleeve all the way up his shoulder, exposing the surprisingly lily white flesh underneath.

"Better start tanning without a t-shirt DiNozzo." He quips casually.

"Jethro I don't think-" Ducky begins, but settles for a look of judgmental concern under Gibbs' steely eyed glare.

His silence says more than any words can, leading Ducky to drop the objection entirely. Tony makes a few squeaky noises of protest, but Gibbs is too set on his task of keeping him in place to give any thought to how he might be feeling trapped within his hold. What Gibbs is feeling is the rapidly thumping heartbeat that most definitely didn't belong to him hammering frantically against his chest. Doing his best to ignore the strange sensation Gibbs looks to Ducky, tipping his head, wordlessly instructing him to get on with it already, but Ducky still doesn't make a move.

"Duck we don't have all day." Gibbs snaps, breaking the oppressive silence.

The reproachful look he receives as Ducky sighs and gives in rolls right off him. Without loosening his hold, even though Tony's now frozen in place, gaze fixed on the needle, Gibbs listens to Ducky continue with the soft platitudes. He wants to order him to stop babying his agent, but the words dancing on the tip of his tongue never make it past his lips. The minute the needle touch's Tony's skin he twists violently. Ducky instantly pulls back and Gibbs is ready to headslap him, but both are taken by surprise when instead of pulling away Tony turns bodily into Gibbs, burying his face into the crook of his neck. Worried confusion replacing the glare he catches Ducky's eye again and silently asks 'what the hell is going on?'

The reproach is still visible for a mere second before it's replaced by an 'I told you so' scowl so superior Gibbs wants to deny its existence. He can't though, since the proof of his mistake is cuddling him, so close he can feel the warmth of every hitched breath Tony makes against his neck. Taking a deep breath and pushing aside the guilt he also wants to deny feeling he tries to concentrate on the problem still at hand. Tony needs the damn shot, and after this episode Gibbs is making sure he gets it.

"What you waiting for Duck." Gibbs nods, keeping his tone cold and even. It's certainly not a question.

"Jethro-"

"Just… get it over with…" Tony's strained muffled voice reaches both their ears and Gibbs can no longer deny the guilt, it takes over his features so easily he fears DiNozzo may have permanently destroyed his ability to remain emotionally closed-off.

Ducky doesn't look happy either, but seems to come to the same conclusion he already did. That after all this commotion and turmoil Tony was getting the godforsaken flu shot. This time when their eyes meet Gibbs dips his head, telling him he gets it now, but also asking him to hurry.

Tony's staggered breaths get quicker and shorter as the needle pierces his skin. Its over in seconds and once finished Ducky dabs the small bleeding pinprick with a ball of cotton wool uttering a quiet 'all done' that likely didn't reach his ears. His face is pressing so hard into the crook of his neck Gibbs can literarily feel the fear transferring from Tony into him. Gibbs loosens the grip on Tony's arm, letting him bring it to rest against his chest. He's still tense, body rigid against his, breathing irregular with shaking hands gripping the back of his jacket. Once again unable to control it Gibbs feels his face morph into an anxious frown and looks to Ducky for help, unsure of what to do next. But the seconds drag by and Ducky remains silent, making it very clear he made his bed, he could bloody well lie in it.

Gibbs gives it a minute, then opens his mouth intending to bark something along the lines of 'move it DiNozzo!' but the phrase never leaves his lips. Instead he changes the hold he's being maintaining around him from one of restraint to comfort, but other than a slight relaxing of tense muscles the hug changes very little, except Ducky is smiling at him instead of giving him the sink eye and Tony is gradually releasing the death grip on his shirt. Gibbs feels warm tears soak into his shirt as surely as he feels the chill of the autopsy table under his butt, but maintains his position despite the surprise. The phone rings, upsetting the silence and Ducky leaves immediately to answer it.

As soon as they're left alone Gibbs relaxes his own tense muscles, disillusionment at his own actions showing clearly on his face.

"I don't like needles." Tony speaks after a pause.

"Noticed," He replies simply to the muffled statement.

"Sorry boss,"

Gibbs smiles, though his heart is quite literarily breaking at the quiet yet familiar utterance. He wants to say it's a sign of weakness, but knows that will be taken the wrong way. Thoughts of the case flit through his mind but nothing sticks and since it doesn't look likely Tony will be moving from his safe haven anytime soon Gibbs makes himself as comfortable as possible.

"That's okay, Tony." He says eventually, feeling none of the anger or irritation he did mere minutes ago. "Take as long as you need."

He checks his watch.

They have the time.

…

A/N: Well hello! And thank you for reading another one of my ill-conceived stories ;D Reviews always very appreciated if you feel like clicking that button!

Big thanks to all those that reviewed, faved, followed and continue to read 'Break'. I have a new series I'm intending on publishing, it's Christmasy, look out for it next Tuesday.

TTFN

Baileys