My take on what happens after the final scene last season. This is Gabby, so if you're a Gibbs/Abby as father daughter fan or just can't wrap your head around a romantic connection between them...this will not be the story for you. But I hope you'll give it a whirl anyway. This not a fully developed idea yet and I have other fics in the works, so updates won't be at regular intervals. I own nothing and make no profits from my writing. All mistakes are mine.

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He wanted to wake up. He felt sure that this nightmare had gone on long enough and that any second his alarm would go off. He'd groan a little, fighting the early call of a new day as he shook of the remnants of the dream. He'd stretch a bit, even before he cracked an eye open and then give in to the inevitable and open his peepers slowly, letting them adjust. Then would come the BIG stretch, the one where aging bones would snap and crackle a bit more than they did a few years ago and he'd yawn something that sounded somewhere between a yowl and a banshee with a stubbed toe. He'd draw a deep breath in through his nose and roll over, swing his feet over the edge of the bed and then sit there for a few minutes or a few seconds, depending on how urgent the call of nature was that morning.

But, instead, that awful canvas wall stared back at him. The rust color stained his hands and the smell of stale copper permeated his nose, competing with the unknown and excruitiating worry to see which would be the one to push him over the edge and cause him to lose the meager contents of his stomach.

This had to be the longest, most awful day of his life and it was far from over. He could deal with how long this all felt. He would endure hours of this pseudo hell, if only he wasn't in limbo. There was a giant question mark hanging over everything right now...and that...that was killing him. He could think of only one thing that could be worse right now and he wasn't at all prepared to contemplate that scenario. His head and his heart couldn't take that. Nope. Not an option.

"Agent DiNozzo."

Tony sprang to his feet. It was too soon to be over, wasn't it? This couldn't be good. One panicked thought began to tumble over another, momentarily making him forget there was a young corpsman waiting for a reply.

"Agent DiNozzo, sir?"

He locked eyes with the young man and realized he was holding a phone out in front of him. "Officer Teague for you, sir. This is a secure line, sir."

"Thanks." Tony reached for the phone and then pulled back, catching another glimpse of his hands. Corpsman Gryse caught his look and shook his head.

"Don't worry about it, sir. It looks dried and I can take care of the phone and get you something to clean up with when you're done."

Tony nodded and took the phone this time. But before he raised it to his ear, he asked, "Any word?"

The young Navy medical man frowned in sympathy as he shook his head and answered, "No, sir, not yet. But I will come and get you as soon as I hear anything."

Again, Tony nodded and put the phone to his ear. "DiNozzo."

"We've got Budd."

"Alive or dead?"

"Mostly alive."

"Joanna..." Tony sighed, frustrated. He really couldn't do puzzles right now.

"He's banged up and bruised, but he'll definately live. Resisting arrest is hazardous to a terrorist's health."

"Luke and the other kids?" Tony could feel his pulse thump in his head just at mentioning the kid's name. The anger he felt toward the boy wasn't something he was proud of, but that was another something he'd deal with later.

"Luke's in custody. Four of the other kids as well, but the rest are in the wind. The kids and Budd are secure and will be transported back to the States on a flight scheduled to leave in two hours."

"I want them heavily guarded! I mean like white on rice! Not a chance anyone's gonna swoop in at the last minute and-"

"Tony!" Joanna cut him off. "No one is going to rescue this scumbag. I promise you." Her voice dropped then, "How is he?"

Tony ran his hand absent-mindedly over his face, nearly gagging when that copper smell permeated his nose. "He came to briefly just before the bird touched down here. I couldn't get close enough to hear over the blades. They rushed him into surgery. All I know right now is that it's a miracle he didn't bleed out before they got him here and that's no gurantee it'll get any better from here on out."

"No news right now is good news, Tony. Hang in there. Ned always said he'd never met anyone as tough as Gibbs. He'll pull through, I'm sure of it."

He knew the appropriate thing to do was to thank Joanna for the encouragement, but he couldn't get the words out. It all seemed like pointless platitudes until he saw those blue eyes staring back at him and a demand to know what the sit-rep was. "Make sure they get back to the States, Joanna. See this through for Ned and Gibbs."

"Of course. Gotta go, Tony. Flight CO is here to get a final briefing."

"Be safe." He said before disconnecting the call and going in search of the corpsman to return the phone.

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"This is...torture!" Abby's fist thumped against her thigh as she picked her head up off of Ellie's shoulder and looked around the room. "Can't we call them or something?"

Vance looked to Ducky, who rose from his seat beside McGee and went to Abby.

"My dear, Anthony has promised to call as soon as he has any further news. For the time being, let us be thankful that Budd and others have been apprehended, Jethro made it to the hospital and is receiving care and that Anthony is safe and there with him." He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his side.

"I know, Ducky. I just...I can't stand being so far away and not knowing what's going on or if he's going to be okay." Abby began to cry again. Vance shifted nervously on his feet. McGee traded spots with Bishop, rubbing Abby's back as her tears flowed heavy and fast down her face.

None of them liked this situation; not one bit, but waiting was all they could do for the time being. Wait and pray, so they did both. Over and over and over again.

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Tony was slouched in the hard plastic chair, his head back and eyes closed. He wasn't sleeping but he felt like, if his mind would just stop racing, he could sleep for a week. He nearly gave himself whiplash when someone cleared their throat.

A tall, middle aged man stood before him. He looked as if he'd just donned fresh scrubs. That, or the man had just come on his duty shift. "Special Agent DiNozzo?"

"Yes." Tony pushed himself up halfway before the man held his hand out, indicating that Tony should remain sitting.

The stranger took a seat beside him with a tired huff. "If you don't mind, I could use a few minutes off my feet. Been a long day." He closed his eyes for a second, cleared his throat and opened them to look at Tony. "Lt. Adams. I was the primary surgeon for Special Agent Gibbs."

He tried to swallow, but all the moisture in his mouth and throat seemed to have evaporated and all he could do was stare with apprehensive eyes at the man who would deliver either the worst news he'd gotten since his mother died or the best news since the last time Gibbs had nearly died. He really was getting too old for this. Gibbs was...well, he was friend, mentor, father figure. He was the one constant in Tony's life for the last decade plus, followed closely by the rest of the team, but then all that had stemmed from Gibbs too. He was the root and the rest of them the branches. And he was not ready to lose him.

"It's not good, but it could be a whole lot worse."

"So, he's..." Tony managed, the question hanging in the air.

"Yes, he's alive and stable for the moment. I want to monitor him for the next five hours at least. Barring any setbacks, he needs to be on a transport to Rammstein ASAP."

"Setbacks how? What exactly is wrong with him?"

"I'm a chronological events kinda guy, Agent DiNozzo, so can you tell me where he was hit first?"

"Tony, please. First shot was to the leg." he supplied.

"Alright. That bullet shattered his tibia and fibula."

"But he...he stood up?!" Tony gawped. "He took the shot to the leg and it took him off his feet but he stood back up!"

"My best guess, Tony? We can tell by the damage to the tibia that the shot initially impacted that bone, shattering it on impact and more than likely putting it's trajectory to nick the fibula, fracturing it. The adrenaline must have been enough to get him back on his feet and I can only guess that he had presence of mind to keep most of his weight off the injured leg, thereby preserving the stability of the fibula for that moment, but when he took the second hit to his torso, he dropped his weight back onto the injured leg and the compromised fibula couldn't handle the pressure and crumbled. I was able to do some repair to get it out of the danger zone but considering my other main concerns, it was a lower priority. That leg will need major surgery and it'll set off metal detectors for the rest of his life, but he should be able to walk on it given enough time and physical therapy. It'll never be the same though. And I'm afraid that's the good news."

Tony closed his eyes, trying to wrap his head around what he'd just, basically, been told before he could even think about being ready for the rest because apparently the good news was that his boss had just been forced into retirement. 'He should be able to walk on it' meant that running or other strenuous activity demanded in field work was now no longer part of the picture and Gibbs didn't ride a desk. There was no way a gunshot to his torso could be better news than that, not unless the bullet had managed to miss every major organ. "Bad news is?" He forced himself to maintain eye contact, though his hands shook at his side.

"The bullet entered mid-to lower torso and offside. It penetrated the stomach." The Lt. paused here, giving Tony time to let that sink in before he continued. "The immediate concern with an injury like that is, as you can imagine, blood loss. He lost a great deal of blood as it were, but I have to commend you and the medics. If it weren't for your immediate care and the medics care in further stemming the flow until he arrived here...well, let's just say there wouldn't have been anything I could have done."

"Lt." Tony was polite but he could tell when something was being presented gently and right now, he was a rip the band-aid off kinda guy. "I appreciate the props and all, but can you please just get to the 'but' part of this, because it's been a heck of a bad day and I just really need it given to me straight."

"I can respect that. Alright. Like I said, he's lost a lot of blood and that hasn't helped, but we've managed to get the wound closed and replaced some of the blood lost. He's going to be weak from it and everything else. Our main concern is secondary peritonitis, which is an infection that can develop due to the bacteria that spills into the abdominal cavity from the stomach in an injury like his. The good news here is that because we knew exactly what his injury was and what it involved, we could suction that away and treat it as appropriate. We'll keep him on a highly aggressive round of antibiotics to combat the onset of an infection and keep him on plenty of fluids to keep him hydrated. The bad news is that with the serious potentcy of the bacteria he was exposed to, while the antibiotics are almost sure to do the trick, there's no gurantee he won't still develop an infection. It can be fatal and extremely resistent to antibiotics if the patient develops the infection while on such an aggressive round of antibiotics to begin with. If that happens, we're fighting to find something stronger or that will work better with his immune system and that's very difficult since we're pretty much hitting him with the best we have in order to keep the infection from happening at all. Make sense?"

Tony felt numb. After all this, everything Gibbs had beaten all these years, and he could get taken out by an infection?! He understood, but that didn't mean it made sense. Not one bit. He nodded anyway.

"Which is why I want him at Rammstein ASAP. We can do decently here, but we're just a field hospital and should the worst happen he needs more than we could give him."

"How..." Tony struggled to keep his voice steady. "How long until we know for sure that he's out of danger for developing this infection?"

"If it happens, it's going to happen in the next 24 hours. Which is why I want to monitor him for the next 5 hours and if he remains stable, we put the two of you on a transport to Rammstein immediately."

"When can I see him?"

"Unfortunately, not until they clear him at Rammstein. It's difficult enough to insure a sterile environment in this kind of place, so I want to limit his exposure to as many outside germs as possible until he's somewhere with a better ability to control his immediate environment and, no offense Tony," Adams gave him a pointed look, "you need a shower and a fresh set of clothes in a really bad way."

He could understand the reasoning, but he didn't have to like it. Right now, he just really wanted to see the boss; watch his chest rise and fall for himself. "Fair enough, but I want regular updates until I can see him."

"Not a problem. And I believe we can get you squared away with a shower and some fresh scrubs in the meantime." The surgeon saw the glimmer of hope in Tony's eyes. "But I'm still not okaying a visit until you're in Germany, he's completely stable and responding positively to the antibiotics and you've had a chance to shower and change somewhere with less sand and -" he opened his arms and gestured around, "-this."

"Guess that's that then. I need to use the phone again if that's possible. Need to give my Director a sit-rep and there will be a few people very anxious to know what's going on and how he is."

"I'll get that for you right away and then we'll get you that shower." Adams stood and extended his hand, shaking it firmly. "Sorry to meet you under these circumstances, Tony, but it's been a pleasure nontheless."

"Same here, Lt., and thanks for everything."

He smiled and nodded, turning to go in search of the phone for Tony.

Once the other man was out of sight, Tony let out a heavy breath and closed his eyes. This day was not anywhere close to being over for them and this phone call was definately not going to be easy...not easy at all. Abby was going to be a mess. He hoped the team was ready.

TBC...