I'm saddened by the decline in the number of ncis related fics in this site. Hope this one helps.

Elevator dings

"I am telling you McGee, I am fiiine."

The exasperation (not to mention the slurring) in his partner's voice drew Tony's attention out of his pain-induced reverie. He tried to turn his head towards the direction of the voice, only to find it being yanked back by the steady hands of their resident medical examiner. "Anthony, this would be a lot faster if you'd stay still." He heard Ducky say. He cringed when the antiseptic landed none too gently onto the gash on his forehead. Somehow, Ducky's words eerily gave him a feeling of Déjà vu. He rejected the thought as fast as he'd entertained it, though. Maybe it was just the headache, he thought. Or perhaps the leftover pasta he had this morning. He knew he shouldn't have eaten it. He just knew it.

He turned his attention back to the brewing argument…

"No, Ziva. I don't think you are." McGee replied in a frustrated I-knew-things-better-than-you kind of way. He only uses that tone whenever he argues with Tony, so imagine the senior field agent's surprise when he realized that for the first time in the history of NCIS probies, that particular McGeek tone wasn't directed onto him. And it wasn't simply not directed to him—it's pointed straight to their very own ex-assassin extraordinaire. Isn't probie at least aware of the health risks that come with talking like that to ninjas? If the McGoo has a freakin' death wish, sure as hell he has failed to mention it to him.

"Then you are wrong." Ziva told him flatly, finally coming into Tony's fairly limited and blurry view. Ducky was blocking more than half of his visual field though. Judging the good doctor's quick motions, he was about to finish patching up his wound.

Done or not, Tony still felt woozy. In fact, all he could see is his partner's hazy silhouette. Why do gang members love using bats against the heads of federal officers these days? Don't they know how blasphemous it is especially to the god of baseball, Mr. October himself, Reggie Jackson?

Lucky for him, the bad guy who hit him did not have the same accuracy as a baseball player. If he did, he'd surely have a bad case of mashed potato head ala DiNozzo. Unfortunately though, his left arm had to suffer greatly because of it. Yeah, it was damaged in a fractured-kind-of-way, which Tony found to be quite depressing. But he figured he has no right to complain much about it, given the alternative. He'd take a slightly fractured ulna over a not-so-solid head any day. It's a good thing he has good bat blocking abilities. Now he just have to nurse the arm, the very-mild-barely-there concussion, and the small graze on his forehead.

"Ducky, help me." McGee pleaded; his irritated tone long forgotten.

Ducky turned his attention to the two other agents, wondering what their plight could possibly be. Hopefully, it's not as bloody as Tony's. It took him quite some time to patch him up. He certainly is not a fan of the emergency room's unique bandaging style. "What seems to be the—" The duckman halted midsentence. A stunned expression clouded his face as he set his eyes on the female agent. "Oh dear, what happened to you?"

That tone made Tony's head turn. He blinked a few times to clear his vision, but everything was still foggy to him. Damn headache. At least his forehead is all clean and wrapped up again, so that's one good thing. Not exactly as good as new, but at least it is much better than the mangled mess that it was before he was rushed to the hospital a few hours ago.

Speaking of hospitals, he can't really remember anything after he was carted off the scene by the paramedics. Everything was exceedingly foggy that time. The next thing he knew, he was standing in front of the Navy Yard while his pockets were being raided by a stony-faced Gibbs for his elusive NCIS ID. For a second there, he panicked, thinking that Gibbs was groping him. But he brushed the disturbing notion off his muddled brain faster than he thought he possibly could. A touchy-feely sniper boss is as farfetched as any extremely-over-the-top farfetched ideas go. Seeing him levitate would be far more believable.

Oh, god. He was in a hospital. Tony sighed to himself. That's thrice this month. At this rate, he should already be handed a loyalty card or something.

"'m fiiine!" Ziva's voice broke Tony's trance once more.

McGee shrugged at Ziva's stubbornness. Who looks like that and remains fine? A feather could probably make her fall over. Well, not really a feather, but whatever.

Ducky fumbled inside his pocket for some sort of pen. "You most definitely do not look like it, my dear."

"See? Even Ducky thinks you're not okay." McGee pointed out victoriously. He finally had someone to side him. At first, he'd expected it to be Tony, but he seemed just as equally out of it as their resident Israeli-American. "Told you she spiked that tea."

Upon hearing those words, Tony sprang up from his chair and demanded, "Can you say that again probie?" He cringed, then yelped as a new round of throbbing made its way into his injured limb.

Unfortunately for Tony, the sudden movement also worsened his already wobbly world. He groaned as he was forced back to his seat by gravity. Eyes firmly shut, he pinched his nose bridge. "Did you just let some random person drug my ninja?"

Ducky's eyebrows arched higher at the hint of possessiveness in Tony's tone. The medical examiner cast a meaningful glance at McGee direction, but all the young agent did was shudder.

Ziva interrupted, unmindful of the playful, yet hushed exchange. "Really, I am fine. How—" She closed her eyes for a few seconds before she was forced to take a deep breath. She can't even find the energy to stay irritated anymore. Her voice is slurring, even she could tell. "How…many times am I s'pposed to tell you m'fine?"

"You are a lot of things Agent David, but sadly, as of the moment, fine is not one of them." With his thumb, Ducky clicked the pen-like contraption he was holding, directing a yellowish beam of light towards Ziva's unfocused eyes. She flinched slightly at the sudden burst of brightness. It felt like it burned through her retinas, etching a seemingly permanent blob of black which is visible to her even with eyes closed. If not for the audience around her, she would've probably shrieked in frustration, which is probably not a very good idea in her case. She has a reputation to protect.

"At least, it doesn't appear to be any kind poisoning." Ducky pulled her out of her headspace by taking out a pointy object from his pocket and pricking her finger unceremoniously. She half jumped from her seat before letting out a faint curse. It wasn't in English of course. Expletives in other tongues seemed to have more appeal to her. Then he took one of those hammer-like things that doctors use and tapped her somewhere below her knee. Satisfied with her results, Ducky chuckled, "No drug overdosage either. Your reflexes, my dear, are still intact."

"When weren't they?" Tony cut in. He's finally starting to find the humour in the situation they found themselves in.

A sarcastic retort started to form on Ziva's lips, but she decided against it. She would not waste her remaining energy on words which are most likely to end up slurred.

"How do you feel?" The good doctor asked her gently.

"Been better." She bitterly admitted. "My mind is foggy, yet I feel too physically… relaxed."

"Just say you are not feeling well, for Pete's sake!" McGee blurted out exasperatedly. Judging the stunned silence that followed, no one saw that outburst coming. Probably even McGee did not expect it. The entire room went to a standstill.

Tony's mouth literally gaped open. He almost felt his jaw make contact with the squadroom floor. "Wha-"

Tim, recovering quickly, waved both of his hands in front of him in an attempt to somehow physically erase all the stuff he just said. "Sorry, I... Ziva, um. What I'm trying to say is that... is that, um. Really I-"

Tim's nervousness about the Ziva's current situation is very much palpable. Tony could tell. The probie wouldn't snap at her if isn't. Fortunately, before McGee could dig an even deeper grave for himself, Ziva's defeated voice reached their ears, "Fine." She muttered under gritted teeth. "I feel quite bad. My muscles are too relaxed than I would prefer, and I think my legs would not be able to hold me if I try to stand again. There, I said it. Happy?"

Woah, woah. Hold it right there. According Tony's ninja-to-normal dictionary, whenever Ziva says 'quite bad', it meant that things are really, really bad. She tends to undercompensate a lot. To make things worse, did he just hear her admit defeat to McGee? This isn't right. He turned to their medical examiner (still with burry vision, but less so) and mouthed so Ziva wouldn't hear, "Hospital?"

Ducky pondered the question for a moment. He was about to say yes (Tim could tell, and he couldn't agree more), when Ziva made her declaration. "No hospitals, I can handle this." The drugs in her system were obviously unable to keep her spidey senses at bay. "I can sleep this off."

Tim looked at Ducky pleadingly. Tony simply frowned.

"Are you sure, Agent David?" the doctor ignored his co-workers' gazes and stared at intently at Ziva.

"I am sure, Ducky." She stared at Ducky, unseeing, but she did not think he noticed. "I am fine."

Ducky regarded her with light scrutiny. "Very well then."

Tony did not like her not going to the hospital. Although, come to think of it, even if he doesn't completely trust Ziva's personal ill-o-meter (it is always turned off, he thinks), he could always trust Ducky's.

"All I want… 'sss to rest my eyes… too slack to do… things." Ziva admitted, silently hoping that her team mates would let her case drop. Her words became slightly fragmented at this point. She finally let her eyes droop. "gonna… just, mm.. sleep this off. 'Kay?"

At least she felt relaxed, Tony thought. A jumpy ninja is the last thing he—or anyone— would need. "Some people think that's a good thing." The senior field agent chimed in with an all-knowing smirk fixed on his face, "but then again, you are not some people. You're our ex-foreign exchange ninja."

"Not this relaxed, though. I feel… jelly-o." She murmured, ignoring his remark completely. "I…think this is not the full effect yet."

"It's jell-o." Tony corrected her on impulse. Though regardless of her butchering of that popular snack name, it didn't quite spell the difference to his brain. It still momentarily went someplace else upon her mention of jell-o. A very nice place, he might add. There's a lot of jell-o involved. And women. There will always be women.

It's a good thing Ducky decided to go on talking before Tony could even begin digging himself a grave—beside McGee's. "I have to agree with you on that, my dear." Ducky whispered softy. "I would not force you into a hospital, but you must let me have Abby do a thorough Tox screen. Just to be sure."

Silence filled the bullpen as the medical examiner continued to check on Ziva. McGee was hovering in the background with tension-filled eyes. The probie may not say it aloud, but his body language strongly suggested that he blamed himself for the slip up. Tony knew him too well to miss that, concussed or not.

"What do we got here, Duck?" Gibbs hollered from the top of the stairs leading to MTAC. Tony wasn't sure whether his boss' voice was twice as loud this time, or it is just his painkillers talking—which, by the way, he should gave taken again minutes ago (he refuse to take them again: once is enough, thanks.). Perhaps it's the latter. Whatever the cause was, it just amplified the seriousness of the question. If there's one good thing he could get in this picture, it is that Gibbs usually asks that question in autopsy, where, fortunately they are not in. Or in McGee's case, not yet.

Then, Gibbs realized that instead of Ducky tending on DiNozzo, the old doctor's focus was turned to Ziva. His features turned stormy.

"What happened?" Gibbs asked, slightly taken aback. Ziva and McGee were only supposed to interview nice widow somewhere. He quickly approached Ziva and lifted her chin to face him, scanning her for injuries himself.

"Good question boss." Tony grunted before anyone else could form a thought. "I was wondering about the same thing."