4

Ducky arrived to find Ziva asleep, her head against Tony's shoulder. He leaned down to wake Tony when a hand blocked his reach. Gibbs crooked a finger at him, beckoning him away. Ducky followed.

"How's Timothy?"

Gibbs looked into his coffee cup and seemed surprised to find it empty. "He made it through surgery fine. The doctor said something about keeping an eye out for peritonitis, but they were able to repair the damage from the beating. Some of his ribs were pretty badly damaged, but they should eventually heal, too."

"Have you talked to him?"

"No. He just came and gave me the update. McGee won't be allowed any visitors for another twenty-four hours. He'll be in ICU while he recovers from surgery."

Ducky nodded. "Yes, that sounds about right. Abby will be highly upset she wasn't here to nurse him back to health."

Gibbs smiled. "I'm not making that phone call, Duck. I think it's safer to wait until she's back from her Conference next Monday. I have the feeling seeing McGee will calm her down and hopefully water down some of her anger."

Ducky laughed. "One can only hope." He glanced toward the sleeping agents. "How are the rest of you holding up?" His gaze swung back to Gibbs. "I assume, due to the butterfly bandage, that your injuries have been addressed?"

Gibbs touched the cut on his cheekbone and nodded. "We'll be fine."

"Archer gave you no choice, Jethro."

Gibbs looked away. "I know that. I have no qualms about killing the bastard."

"I meant his father."

Blue eyes cut back to Ducky. "I pushed him hard, Duck."

Ducky shook his head. "I checked his medical records. The man was living on borrowed time. He'd had a heart attack nearly five years ago, when they lost the family farm. That loss, plus the constant strain of covering up for his son, cost him dearly. I found 95% blockage of his arteries during the autopsy. He was walking dead, Jethro. Even if he hadn't collapsed during your questioning, his end was just around the corner."

Gibbs shrugged. "Now we'll never know."

Ducky watched him for a beat, then drew a deep breath. "I must get back. Let the others know I was here, will you? And give Timothy my best wishes."

"Will do, Duck." He watched the older man go, his thoughts on what Ducky had just told him.

Tony woke and gently extracted himself from Ziva. He joined Gibbs. "Was that Ducky I heard?"

Gibbs nodded. "Yeah. He's checking on McGee."

"How is he?"

Gibbs repeated the update to Tony. "We'll be able to see him by tomorrow this time. Drive Ziva home and go get some rest."

"What about you?"

Gibbs walked back to the coffee machines to refill his cup. "I'm stayin' a little while longer." He took a sip of his drink then glanced at Tony. The younger man stood frozen, staring at nothing. "Tony?"

Eyes refocused and Tony shook his head. "Just can't stop thinking about Archer, Boss, and what he did to Tim. If I had known --"

Gibbs moved closer and lowered his voice. "You would have done the same thing. Shot him. It's what we all did; all we could do, to save McGee. Don't give that bastard any more of your time, DiNozzo. He's not worth it."

Tony gave a resigned sigh, but he didn't look completely satisfied.

Gibbs gave him a little push and handed him the car keys. "Now go, get the Ninja Warrior Princess and go home. Come back tomorrow and tell McGee how you saved his life and how he owes you his first born."

A grin widened Tony's mouth. "That's true! I did save his life. In some cultures that's considered a debt for life, you know?" He walked back to Ziva and nudged her shoulder. "Come on, Ziva. McGee's going to be fine. We have orders to go home and get some rest."

Gibbs listened as the two sparred, walking out of the hospital. Then he sat and waited.

Shifts changed around him, patients checked out, accident victims and people with obvious, and some not so obvious illnesses, checked in. Doctors walked by, moving from trauma to trauma. An ambulance brought a wreck victim in; a policeman brought in a man who'd been stabbed in the arm. Children cried, grown men wept, and women sat with hopeless expressions carved on their faces. A new mom, holding a tiny pink bundle, husband walking proudly beside her wheelchair, rolled through.

Gibbs watched it all and waited. He'd nearly fallen asleep when a nurse came to tell him he could see McGee. He dropped his cup into the trash and followed her, leaving his weariness behind. They threaded through halls and nurses' stations, and finally came to several cubicles separated by clear, thick glass. She passed two beds, then turned and motioned Gibbs closer. She smiled at him, told him in hushed tones that he could sit with the patient for ten minutes, and left him alone.

There was no chair, so Gibbs just stood by the bed. He believed himself to be observant, but couldn't remember McGee being so small – and when had he cut that long mop he'd been growing on his head? Short hair stuck out every which way, like a little boy who'd forgotten his comb. Cleaned of dirt and blood, McGee's bruises appeared applied with a marker, they were so dark against his pale face.

As he watched, McGee's head turned on his pillow. He sighed and opened his eyes. Squinting, then recognizing Gibbs, he grinned softly. "Hey, Boss."

Gibbs smiled. "Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?"

"So they tell me." His voice was low and hoarse, but it was good to hear. "Thanks for coming after me. Tell Tony and Ziva --"

"They'll be here in a few hours. You can tell them yourself. And Tony may ask for your first born."

McGee's eyes closed in what Gibbs could only assume was a smile. "Thanks for the heads up."

His eyes remained closed. Figuring the drugs must have pulled him under again, Gibbs reached over the bed railing and lightly grasped McGee's arm. Rope burns ringed McGee's wrists, and for a fleeting moment, revenge rose in Gibbs again. He closed his eyes. Something touched the top of his hand. He opened his eyes to find McGee's other hand over his.

Revenge melted away to make room for thankfulness and relief. He stood still and watched McGee sleep.

THE END