A/N: Well, at long last, here is the conclusion! I know it's been forever coming, and I can offer no good explanation for it except that life happened and writing this story didn't. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed this, your feedback has been wonderful. Thanks also to everyone who kept prodding me to finish this. I finally took your advice, and for your efforts you get this nice, long chapter in return. ;)
I hope this chapter measures up to the others somewhat in quality and that the ending does the story justice without leaving any major loose ends hanging, as I haven't gone back and read the entire story recently. Thanks for reading!
Chapter 10
As soon as Tony pulled into his parking space at headquarters, Gibbs opened his eyes and got out of the car. Tony grabbed his gear from the trunk and hurried after him as quickly as his stiff muscles would allow. "I knew you weren't asleep. You just pretended to be so I wouldn't turn on any music," he accused.
"I couldn't take the risk that you had the same songs as McGee stored on your Pod-thing," Gibbs smirked, entering the building ahead of DiNozzo.
"Hey! Now that's just mean, Boss! I don't touch the probie's music. I may have borrowed a picture or two when he wasn't looking…besides, if you can handle Abby's music you could certainly handle mine."
Gibbs didn't answer and remained silent as they got onto the elevator. Tony punched the button for the bullpen and Gibbs punched the one for autopsy. Tony ignored him, and when the doors slid open at the bullpen, took a step forward. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, DiNozzo."
"Do what?" Tony asked innocently, but took a step back and let the doors slide closed again before Gibbs got any ideas. His headache really didn't need any more ammunition at the moment.
Several seconds later the doors slid open again and they stepped out and walked down the hallway toward the morgue. Ducky was cleaning up, having just finished with an autopsy. On hearing them enter, he looked over. "Good heavens, Jethro. What have the two of you been getting yourselves into?"
"Just a very long day, Duck."
"Indeed. What can I do for you?"
"DiNozzo needs his head examined."
"Some would argue that should have happened long ago." Ducky and Gibbs grinned at each other.
Tony didn't look amused, and he knew just how to exact revenge. "It's nothing really. It's not half as bad as Gibbs' hand—" Tony paused at seeing Gibbs' death-glare directed his way, and decided the revenge thing could wait for later, "—hitting me in the head. I let my guard down and got served a knuckle sandwich, though not from Gibbs."
"But before that he got knocked out," Gibbs added helpfully, now smiling at Tony. The smile reminded DiNozzo of a hungry shark looking at an unsuspecting swimmer.
"Hmm…and what happened to you, then?" Ducky turned his attention to Gibbs, studying his black eye.
"What's it look like?" Gibbs hedged, but was saved from commenting further when DiNozzo suddenly swayed. "Easy, Tony." Gibbs grabbed the younger man's arm and steadied him.
Ducky peered at him with concern. "I think Jethro is correct, Anthony. Why don't you have a seat while I collect my medical bag?"
Tony just rubbed at his eyes and allowed Gibbs to walk him over to one of the tables. He winced slightly as he climbed up, his torn pants rubbing against the self-inflicted laceration on his thigh. "So, Boss, about your—"
"DiNozzo, if I find out you gave Ducky a hard time about anything you'll be pulling desk duty for a year. I'm going to talk to Ziva," Gibbs said, and after giving Tony a last look to make sure the man wasn't going to pass out, he strode from the room effectively cutting off further conversation.
"Any idea what has him in such a hurry?"
"You know, I would love to tell you Ducky, I really would, but I sort of like my job…"
"That's quite all right, my boy. I'm sure in due time someone will let the cat out of the bag. Now, let me see what you've done to yourself."
Gibbs took the elevator up to the level of Abby's lab, and peered cautiously into the hallway before stepping out. He could hear music blasting from the lab, which meant Abby would be found somewhere within, and he silently thanked whoever had designed the building for placing the bathroom between the elevator and the lab. He walked as quietly as possible down the hallway, even though he knew from personal experience that Abby wouldn't be hearing anything over the blaring noise.
Slipping into the bathroom, he did a quick check of the stalls and was relieved to find them empty. He debated locking the door, but decided against it with what he was about to do, just in case. At this time of night, it wasn't likely that anyone was going to walk in anyway.
Stepping to the sink, Gibbs gingerly pulled his injured hand from his coat pocket. His right ring finger and pinky were bent at odd angles and badly swollen. Bruising had begun to spread past his knuckles to color the side of his hand as well. He sighed, turning his entire arm to better view the damage without jarring his fingers. No part of this was going to be pleasant, but he didn't have time to get waylaid by Ducky at the moment. Spezzo would probably be ready for interrogation by tomorrow afternoon, and there was no small amount of paperwork to file concerning his arrest.
Turning on the tap, he tested the water temperature and waited until the stream was ice cold. Taking a deep breath, he placed his hand under the tap, hissing at the pain that small amount of pressure caused. He waited, letting the cold cascade over edema-cushioned cracked bone. Numbness was a long time in coming, and he waited five minutes beyond that, enjoying the temporary anesthetic. He removed his hand from the spray, shut off the faucet, and pressed his back against the wall while bracing his hip against the countertop. Gibbs studied his hand, and he decided the pinky was first as the swelling had gone down enough that he could clearly ascertain the angle of the bone.
Clenching his jaw, Gibbs gripped the damaged digit firmly and tugged. He couldn't help from crying out as pain receptors fired, shooting lances of agony through his hand and forearm. The edges of his vision grayed for a moment and he blindly grabbed at the countertop with his good hand to steady himself against the swirling walls of the room around him.
Abby paced her lab nervously. McGee had phoned over an hour ago to let her know that Gibbs and Tony were on their way back, and she was getting impatient. She was concerned for Gibbs, especially since Tim had let slip that he had been injured. McGee had had to go collect evidence, and assured her that the injuries weren't severe and that Gibbs would be fine before hanging up, but for some reason his reassurance wasn't helping her anxiety.
Deciding he would probably be his typical self and head to the bullpen first rather than to see Ducky, she decided she'd intercept him there and drag him to Ducky herself. Nodding at having chosen a course of action, Abby stepped out of her lab and headed for the elevator, just in time to see Gibbs disappearing into the men's room. She stopped and re-assessed the situation. Going in after him wasn't an option she was willing to consider just yet. Waiting for him by the door seemed like a good idea, although if he was still in the mood he'd been in this morning then that mood was probably ten times worse by now, and she didn't want him to feel like she was nagging.
Her eyes roamed to a nearby security camera and Abby grinned and raced back to her lab. Typing furiously at her keyboard, she brought up the feed for the camera on her monitor, punched in a couple of commands that turned the camera so the bathroom door was in view, and pulled up a chair.
Ten minutes later, Abby was staring at the screen with a puzzled frown. What was taking him so long? Surely he hadn't exited in the time it had taken her to bring up the camera feed. If he had, then he'd be in her lab by now. There was no plausible explanation for why he would make a special trip to this level to use that particular bathroom if he wasn't coming to see her. On the other hand, if he was trying to avoid detection, this would also be the perfect place to do so. Conflicted, she sat there for another five minutes. After all, she really didn't want to disturb quality time with the sports page, but finally Abby decided enough was enough. He could kill her if he wanted. She'd lived a long and happy life.
Making her way back down the hallway, she knocked on the door, waited a moment, then pushed it open while mentally reciting, Here lies Abby Sciuto, Forensic Scientist Extraordinaire, and definition of the term Sportus Interruptus. May she rest in… Abby's self-epitaph ended abruptly as she recognized the sound of someone retching. "Gibbs?" she questioned, though she wasn't sure why. He wasn't going to answer her while worshipping the porcelain god. She moved in the direction of the toilets, pushed the unlatched door of the one occupied stall the rest of the way open, and found the man in question. Abby studied Gibbs, attempting to assess him professionally as she would a lab sample, knowing he didn't like it when she got all worried about him. Also, she wasn't sure whether to be worried or furious at the moment anyway. He was on his knees and was gripping the toilet tissue dispenser with his left hand for support. The muscles of his arm were trembling slightly. She set her jaw as he had done on numerous occasions when he was angry. He could be so stupid. Why hadn't he gone to Ducky? Because he's Gibbs and he's stubborn, she reminded herself. And I have every reason to chew him out for it.
A shudder ran through his body and a quiet grunt escaped between heaves. Her expression softened. Who was she kidding? "You are not a piece of evidence, Gibbs," she stated decisively and moved to crouch behind him. Reaching out, Abby began to rub his back gently. After several long moments, the god was sufficiently worshipped and he straightened a little.
"You shouldn't be in here, Abbs." Gibbs' voice was quiet and a little hoarse. He raised his eyes to look at her over his shoulder, and frowned a little in confusion, "And why would I be evidence?"
"I was just thinking out loud," she smiled slightly, though it didn't quite reach her eyes as she took in his pale face, his hair damp with sweat.
Gibbs continued to stare at her and finally spoke, "Abby?"
"Yeah, Gibbs?"
"Can I get up now?"
Abby snapped out of her reverie. "Oh. Right." She stood and stepped back to allow him more room. He was moving very stiffly as he got to his feet, and when he turned to the side slightly to flush, she didn't miss the pained look on his face. That's when she saw his right hand cradled against his chest. Her mouth dropped open at seeing one crooked finger and another that was now straight, though obviously similarly damaged. She allowed him to exit the stall before swatting him lightly on the shoulder. "Are you sure this is the men's room? Because I'm starting to think I missed a sign that said 'Idiots Only'." She'd tried for annoyance, but her voice betrayed more concern than anger as her mind fully put two and two together about what he'd been doing in here prior to her arrival.
Gibbs didn't answer and started walking back toward the sinks, bracing himself slightly against the wall with his good hand as he did so. The room seemed to have gotten a little wobbly again, and he was secretly thankful for Abby's arrival. Granted, it meant he wasn't going to be able to go through with his plan of fixing his other finger, but in hindsight that plan had been ill-advised to say the least.
"Gibbs…Gibbs!"
He blinked. When had he stopped walking? And when had she unbuttoned his shirt? He glanced down. Make that ripped open his shirt. There were buttons missing. He looked up at her and quirked an eyebrow, once again confused. "Abbs…I don't think this is the time or the place for that…"
It took her a moment to catch onto what he was saying, and she glared at him. "Gibbs, you are intelligent and wonderful and I love you, but you are stupid if you think I would try that right now, Buster! Or should I say Busted?" Abby pulled his shirt and coat further out of the way and stared at the black and blue splotches that covered a good portion of his side. "Some of your ribs obviously are, not to mention your fingers! What were you thinking working a case in this condition?! Just wait until Ducky finds out!" she paused and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. When she looked back at him, her surge of annoyance had again faded to concern and she took his arm, leading him toward the door.
Gibbs sighed wearily. He'd known it was unlikely that he would escape without one of them noticing his hand, but he'd hoped the rest would go unseen. The last thing he needed was a lecture from Ducky. He'd broken his ribs badly once before and that time just sitting up had been incredibly painful for the first week, so he knew that the injury wasn't as serious this time around, perhaps just a couple of cracks instead of complete breaks. Abby was right that the strenuous events of the past days hadn't helped anything, what with the general death-warmed-over feeling that lingered after one broke bones, but he still wasn't understanding one thing. "Why did you rip my shirt, Abbs?"
She stopped walking and he halted with her. Abby looked at him, and he could see the anxiety in her eyes, hear a slight tremor in her voice as she answered, "I…didn't. Your shirt was already torn and when you started walking it shifted and I saw the bruises. What happened out there, Gibbs?" Her voice had dropped nearly to a whisper by the time she asked the question, and part of her didn't want to hear the answer. A bigger part of her needed to though.
"I let a killer catch me so Tony and McGee could catch him," Gibbs answered quietly, his eyes meeting Abby's for a brief moment, a moment in which he admitted what a gross flaw in judgment his actions had been. The wide green eyes looking back at him were still anxious, maybe more so in fact, but held understanding as well, and he squeezed her arm against him slightly with his own, since he couldn't squeeze her hand, and let her guide him from the bathroom. They had nearly reached the door of her inner lab office before he realized that she wasn't dragging him down to autopsy and Ducky.
His legs were beginning to feel rubbery as she sat him down on the edge of her futon, and he found that he was shivering. "Lay back," she murmured, and he wanted to protest that he was going to get everything wet since his clothes were still damp, but fatigue and pain were crashing over him in waves and wouldn't allow more than a quiet groan to pass his lips as she eased him flat. He felt Abby unlace his boots, and then he was being covered with her prized punk-band blanket…what was the name of the group? Lead Pipe? No, it was Lead Towel or something equally odd. Abby's fingers gently combing through his hair were doing a wonderful job of coaxing his addled brain toward sleep and he finally gave in to darkness.
"You can really be a mother hen, Ducky. Uh…no pun intended," Tony's look of annoyance turned to a grin as he accompanied the older man toward one of the smaller rooms just off the main autopsy bay.
"I've had a lot of practice while taking care of my own mother, but if you and Jethro wouldn't be so stubborn about hospitals I might not have to practice my routine quite so often around here." Ducky pushed open the door and nudged Tony inside. "Are you certain I can't convince you to go get a CAT scan? It's very likely you have a minor concussion."
"I don't really need to wait around all night for another doctor to tell me the same thing then, do I? Besides, Gibbs might make good on that desk duty threat if I just take off," DiNozzo said, glancing around the tiny room. Ducky had diagnosed him with a sprained ankle and probable concussion, among other things, and since Tony refused to pay a visit to the ER, the ME had led him here and insisted that he rest for a while. The room was equipped with a gurney that looked only slightly more comfortable than the autopsy tables, but this room was warm and he was still a bit cold from being out in the snow, despite running his car heater full blast all the way back to DC. Come to think of it, a nap didn't sound like a bad idea either.
"Jethro is probably in worse shape than you are, my boy," Ducky said, interrupting his thoughts. "I doubt he'll be threatening anyone tonight, except me perhaps. Now, you just lie down and I'll fetch some ice for your ankle and get Ziva to find you some dry clothes."
"Check on Gibbs first."
DiNozzo's serious tone made Ducky turn back around, and he didn't like the grimness he saw in Tony's expression. "Abby's been worried about him the last couple of days, Spezzo and his men weren't exactly gentle," Tony continued, "and you didn't hear this from me, but they broke at least two of his fingers when he wouldn't tell them what they wanted to hear."
"And you wonder why I'm a mother hen." Ducky shook his head. "All right, I'll see to Jethro first. I'm going to send Mr. Palmer to look in on you though. You shouldn't stay asleep for too long at a time just yet."
"I've had a concussion before, Ducky. I'll be fine. Thanks."
Ducky nodded and waited until Tony was safely on the gurney before heading off to begin his search for Gibbs.
Abby continued stroking Gibbs' hair until she was sure he was asleep, not liking the heat that was radiating off him. Sighing, she stood and went to find Ducky. She made it halfway to the elevators when she spotted him walking toward her.
"Abigail, have you seen Jethro?" he asked as he approached. She noticed he was carrying his medical bag.
"If you're speaking of our fearless and somewhat foolish leader, then yes, he's asleep in my lab. I was just coming to look for you. He's hurt, Ducky."
"Of that much Anthony has already informed me. Don't worry, my dear. Broken fingers are painful, but they generally heal with minimal difficulty." Ducky put his arm around her shoulders and turned them back toward her lab.
"What if you attempt to set them yourself?" Abby asked.
"Then I would have to agree with the 'somewhat foolish' part of your description," Ducky said, frowning.
The two walked through the outer lab quietly, both finding the lack of blaring music somewhat disconcerting. At the doorway of her office, Abby stopped Ducky. At his questioning look, she blurted, "It's not just his hand that's hurt. His shirt was torn and there's bruising all the way down his right side, but I'm pretty sure it's from a few days ago. He's got a fever too, but I'm not sure how bad it is."
Ducky scowled again. "Any other surprises?"
"Not aside from the thorny encounter I told you about earlier."
He sighed. "Well, I suppose it's time to go wake the bear then."
Abby smiled at the aptness of his comment and followed Ducky into her office. He set down his bag on the futon next to Gibbs' leg and carefully drew back the blanket that was covering him, quirking an eyebrow at Abby upon reading the blanket's text. She just grinned, but the worry that still resided in her eyes prompted him quickly back to his task.
Gibbs' injured hand rested across his chest, and Ducky settled for a visual examination for the time being. He would need to ice the digits and administer a local anesthetic at the very least, preferably with an accompanying x-ray, to perform a proper reduction of the fractures. Retrieving an aural thermometer from his bag, he proceeded to check Gibbs' temperature. The device beeped softly a moment later, and he'd barely withdrawn it when Gibbs jerked awake, trying to swat the noisy object with his good hand, hissing as the movement jostled his other.
"Ah, nice of you to join us," Ducky said. He smiled a bit as two bleary eyes came to focus on him, then glanced at the digital display of the thermometer before setting it aside.
"Duck? What happened?" Gibbs tried to push himself up, but there was a weight on his shoulder preventing the motion. He gradually realized the weight was Ducky's hand.
"Stay still for a few moments, Jethro. Abigail tells me that you've been practicing medicine without a license, and although that may work well in the field during combat, there is no need for it here."
"How's DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, but didn't try to sit up again.
"Nice try to change the subject," Ducky narrowed his eyes at Gibbs, but answered, "Anthony is a little worse for the wear, I'm afraid, but I've taken care of the lacerations he gave himself. He's currently napping downstairs and I've got Mr. Palmer keeping an eye on him until I get back. After a good night's sleep I expect he'll feel quite a lot better, though I do wish he'd go get a CAT scan."
"Tell him he's fired if he doesn't."
"In that case, shall I tell the director to expect your letter of resignation for refusing to go to the hospital?" Ducky smiled smugly.
"I don't need a hospital, Duck." Gibbs glared at him.
"You're running nearly a 101 degree fever, Jethro, and there is the matter of your hand so I'm not sure I agree with you on that, but I won't argue the point for the moment. How are you feeling otherwise?"
Gibbs stared at the ME for several seconds, then glanced over to Abby, and finally decided that lying wasn't worth the effort. He could tell they were both biting their tongues to keep from going into lecture mode. There was no need to provide more ammunition. "Tired." He scrubbed a hand over his face. "My fingers hurt like hell and my ribs are fine if I don't bend much or move too fast."
"Does it hurt to breathe?" Ducky asked, pulling his stethoscope from his bag.
"Just aches a bit."
"All right. I want you to move your arm to the side a little." Ducky wadded up the blanket to form a makeshift pillow. "Rest your hand on this and try not to move your fingers." Gibbs slowly did as instructed, his jaw clenching until his arm was settled again. Carefully pushing his shirt and jacket aside, so as not to disturb his hand further, Ducky touched the stethoscope to Gibbs' chest, listening to his heart, then lungs, paying close attention to the right side where most of the bruising was localized. "Your breathing sounds fairly normal, if a bit shallow." He looked up to see that Gibbs' eyes had closed. "Jethro?"
Getting no response, Ducky reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "Jethro? Open your eyes if you can hear me."
After a moment, Gibbs blinked up at him, but his eyes didn't seem entirely focused and Ducky could see faint lines of pain on his face. "That's better. I'm going to get you something for pain and then we'll see what we can do for your hand."
"No hospitals," Gibbs said firmly, forcing himself to focus on Ducky, even though the room was spinning slowly and his eyes weren't sure whether to refer to Ducky in singular or plural form.
The ME looked uncertain, but nodded after a moment. "All right, I'll see what I can do, but if the fractures seem at all unstable you're getting x-rays before I do anything."
Gibbs nodded in acceptance and his eyes slid closed once again. Ducky took his pulse and seemed satisfied, packing the stethoscope and thermometer back into his bag.
"Is he okay?" Abby whispered.
"All things considered, I suppose so."
"Does he need to be in the hospital?"
"He's certainly not well, but his vitals are stable so I think we can honor his request. Did you drive to work this morning, my dear?"
"Yes. What are you thinking, Duck-man?" Abby asked, seeing a mischievous glint in his eyes.
The sound of quiet, steady breathing greeted Gibbs on his return to wakefulness. He recognized the feel of Abby's form curled up next to him, though she was on his left rather than his right where she usually slept. As awareness seeped further into his brain, he began to notice more details that were out of place. Something constricting was wrapped around his chest and his side ached if he breathed too deeply, his left hand had something stuck to the back of it, and when he tried to move his right hand a sharp pain spiked through it and up his forearm, even though the hand itself didn't flex. The pain caused his body to jerk involuntarily and he forced his eyes open, more out of curiosity than any actual interest in being awake.
In the half-light of the room, he could see that his right arm was elevated and that a splint was the culprit immobilizing his hand. After a few seconds of looking at it in confusion, his memory caught up with him and he recalled what had happened to his fingers. As far as he could remember, his other hand had been fine, but something was certainly hinky with it now. He lifted it and was more than a little surprised to find an IV taped to the back. Hadn't he made his feelings about hospitals blatantly clear to Abby and Ducky? He looked around and recognized the surroundings as his guest bedroom. Again he stared at his hand.
"Gibbs, you're awake!"
Gibbs wasn't sure what jumped higher, his heart rate or himself. When he had regained some semblance of control, he glared at Abby, though there was no real heat behind it. "If you wanted to kill me, Abbs, from the look of it you could've just left me alone a while longer and nature would've taken its course."
She looked at him sheepishly for about half a second, then grinned and sat up enough to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Sorry, I wasn't trying to scare you, I just got excited. It's been awhile, Boss-man."
"Awhile since what, exactly?"
"Since you've been awake enough to talk."
"Define 'awhile'."
"Over a day."
He frowned, holding up his left hand. "Care to explain this?"
"You've been pretty sick since you got back the other night, Gibbs. Ducky said it was that or the hospital. Your arm got a little infected from the thorn thrashing incident and you needed antibiotics and antipyretics and anti-dehydrating agents…you get the idea." There was a touch of humor in her voice, and her tone was light, but he could see in her eyes that she had been more than a little worried.
He took her hand in his and squeezed it before dropping his arm back to the mattress, though their fingers remained entwined. "I'm sorry, Abbs."
She didn't answer him for several seconds. He didn't often apologize outright, not even to her, so she knew this was weighing heavily on him. She'd weaseled a few major details out of McGee over the phone regarding the case, and she thought she mostly understood Gibbs' actions. She'd certainly thought about it enough while tending to him the past hours, but the same question still kept cropping up, even though she suspected she knew the answer. "Can you just tell me why this Spezzo person was so important that you would let him torture you just to catch him? I know he killed people, Gibbs, but I also know you've seen worse."
Gibbs sighed. There was only sadness in her voice at what he had gone through, not anger for his having done what he did, and guilt again stabbed at him, making his words sound almost hollow to his ears when he answered. "I felt responsible. I arrested him the first time, knew he'd killed Corporal Madison. He told me he did it, but a verbal confession heard by no one but the arresting officer doesn't exactly stand up as hard evidence. He walked…sure he got a few years for the check fraud, but nothing for the murder, and he was allowed to kill again because of it. I couldn't let him get away a second time."
"Well, you don't have to worry. Tony called a couple hours ago and said to let you know that Spezzo confessed." Abby smiled at him while absently stroking the side of his hand with her thumb.
"I wanted to be there for the interrogation," he said, obviously frustrated.
"Tony said it only lasted about fifteen minutes, which is longer than you would've lasted this morning, even if you had been awake."
Shifting a little so he could see her better, Gibbs groaned softly. When had the bus run him over? He had no clear memory of such an event, but his body was loudly suggesting otherwise. "I think you might be right."
"Is your hand still hurting? Ducky left some painkillers for you, but he won't be back until later this evening."
"Not much, it's fine for now." He looked down and realized for the first time that he wasn't wearing a shirt. Someone, likely Ducky, had taped his ribs and re-bandaged his arm, but he had no recollection of that happening. "Uh, Abbs, how did I get back here? The last thing I remember is talking to Ducky in your office."
"Well, it's kind of a funny story actually…" she paused at his wary look and then continued, "Remember how I insisted on driving to work the other day? It's a good thing I did…though looking back, I guess funny is probably not the word. It's a little creepy that you had to ride in the back when you were that sick to start with. I wouldn't have been bothered by it, but I'm glad you don't remember, Gibbs. It was the only way we could think of to get you home though, since Ducky had pretty much knocked you out with painkillers by that point." Abby looked like she was going to ramble further, but Gibbs stopped her.
"So you're saying that you brought me home in the back of your hearse?" Gibbs didn't look happy.
"Well, if we wouldn't have done that we'd have had to wake you up, which wasn't likely to happen, or we could've called an ambulance."
"If you had called an ambulance it would've been your funeral, Abbs."
She grinned mischievously. "Then I guess it's a good thing it was yours…um, just don't have another one for a really long time, okay?"
He chuckled. "I'll do my best."
THE END!