H/C Bingo Fic Healing Scars
Last Story in the series, making it pre-slash. Enjoy.
Healing Scars
It had been four weeks, three separate trips to the operating room and two hospitals, but McGee was finally being released today. He was way too thin, easily tired and chilled and still on antibiotics, but the doctors at Bethesda and Ducky had all agreed the rest of his recovery could happen in the care of his team.
Tony hadn't been surprised when Gibbs announced that McGee would be recovering at his place, but he felt that a quick check was in order, so he'd decided to show up bright and early that morning, just to make sure.
"Hey, Boss."
Gibbs glanced down at his watch before raising an eyebrow. "DiNozzo? You're up awfully early."
"Just wanted to see if you needed any last minute help." He and Abby had talked about it a lot over the last few weeks and they'd both come to the conclusion that neither man had any idea of how their relationship was changing and they'd decided that a little nudge was in order. "I mean, I don't think McGee's shoulder is up to sleeping on the couch quite yet."
Gibbs rolled his eyes, which was a very good sign. "I'm not making him sleep on the couch."
"Well, that's good." Actually, it was very, very good, but Tony wanted to make sure. "It's just that the upstairs here doesn't seem to see a while lot of action and..." Come on, Gibbs, take the hint.
"You want to check and make sure it's up to snuff?" Yes!! There was more than a touch of sarcasm in Gibbs' tone, but at least it got Tony upstairs to check. Abby wanted him to slip some lube into a drawer someplace, but he thought that was pushing it a bit far.
Nevertheless, Tony bounded up the stairs two at a time. Usually Gibbs would head him off at the pass when he tried to go upstairs, so he'd never actually seen any of the bedrooms, which ground him to a halt once he'd reached the top of the stairs. He was in a small landing, surrounded by closed doors. Barging into Kelly's old bedroom would put a dampener on the mood they were hoping to encourage between Gibbs and McGee and walking into the bathroom would just be weird. Luckily, Gibbs was right behind him and opened one of the doors.
The room was larger than he was expecting, filled with light from the picture window. The bed was an antique and made up with a masculine looking comforter set. Probably one of those bed in a bag sets that most department stores sold, but it was new and fresh and comfortable looking and that was what mattered.
Besides the bedding, the other obviously new feature in the room was the flat screen TV mounted on the wall opposite the bed, generations apart from the ancient tube set down in the living room. "No rabbit ears?"
That earned him an eye roll. "Cable was installed yesterday."
Tony was very pleased with that addition. "Downstairs, too?"
"The installer didn't have the right connector for that television."
He managed not to laugh, but it was close. "Had he actually ever seen a television that old before, Boss?"
"Why are you here again, DiNozzo?
This time he did laugh. "Just making sure you're ready for Tim, Boss." Casually he checked the closet. The clothes he'd picked up from McGee's place were mostly hanging up. He assumed the sweats and t-shirts were in the dresser, but checking on that probably would be pushing his luck. Several books were on the nightstand and unless McGee had suddenly picked up an interest in westerns, it looked to be a mix of books for both men. That suggested Gibbs was planning on spending significant time up here. Pleased, he was ready to leave. "Abby is bringing food for you guys later but give a holler if you need anything."
---NCIS---
DiNozzo finally out of the house, Gibbs was ready to go to the hospital. Ducky was meeting him there to review McGee's post-hospital care. Ziva had been practical and efficient in helping him get ready for McGee to stay, but the rest of the team had been oddly annoying and repeatedly under foot. Like now, as he was walking out to the car, Abby was pulling in, a large casserole dish wedged into the passenger seat. Dinner for tonight was great, but it was only 0730.
"Little early, aren't you?"
"Are you on your way to pick up McGee? Oh, that's so great." She clapped and gave him a hug, not offended at all when he rolled his eyes. Twice in one day, he must be losing his touch. "I'm just going to stick this in the refrigerator for you. The reheating directions are on the lid."
Yep, there was a post-it note stuck to the lid. "I think I can handle that."
"I'm so proud of you, Gibbs." She gave him another hug, this one longer and even tighter. He really needed to figure out what in the hell was going on with her and DiNozzo.
"Reheating food isn't exactly rocket science, Abby."
Way too perky, she finally let go of him and grabbed the pot instead. He was really ready to leave, but her enthusiasm after Tony's early arrival pinged his gut. Not bad, but something was definitely up, so he followed her back inside.
Dinner went into the fridge as promised, but then she started looking around the house, frowning at the television in the living room. "Don't you think it's about time you replaced this old thing, Gibbs?"
"Why? It works fine. Besides, I just bought one for upstairs."
"Upstairs? Really?" She seemed way too happy for such a simple thing.
"Yeah, well, Ducky doesn't want McGee overdoing it. Especially these first few days."
"That's great, Gibbs. Too bad you don't have internet. I could bring him a laptop to play on."
And there were the puppy dog eyes. He was glad this time he'd beaten her to the punch. "Have it, Abs. Bundled with the new cable service. Ooff." The flying hug almost tackled him to the ground, but he managed to stay on his feet even if he were a good five feet back from where they started. "No computer for the first week, though. I don't want him to feel like he needs to check on work."
"You got it, Boss-man. Are you sure his room is ready? McGee's more used to creature comforts than you are, Gibbs."
Did everyone think him incapable of putting sheets on a damned bed? "You want to go check upstairs? First door on the left. I gotta go."
---NCIS---
"You want to go check upstairs? First door on the left. I gotta go." Gibbs gave her a strange look before heading out the door. Luckily she hadn't parked in back of him, otherwise he'd be expecting her to come out and move her car.
Once Gibbs was gone, she scurried up the stairs and opened the door on the left. The room was nice, even if it were a little generic. The television was a good size, just big enough for the space, and McGee would be able to see it easily from the bed. The books on the nightstand looked promising as they were a wide range of genre. Would the two man sit together and read, or would Gibbs sit next to a sleeping McGee, quietly reading to keep him company?
She liked both options, actually. Would they want to watch the same shows on television? If not, Gibbs might go back downstairs to watch something on his old set and that just wouldn't do. First, she had to add a little something to the nightstand. Tony might have been a little too much of a prude, but that was something Abby was never accused of being. That mission accomplished, Abby went back downstairs. It was time that old television had a wiring issue.
---NCIS---
Ducky actually glanced down at his watch when Gibbs arrived outside McGee's hospital room. "Don't ask, it's been an interesting morning."
"Oh?"
"Not sure why my buying some new bedding needs multiple inspections." That seemed to amuse Ducky, but Gibbs didn't want to let him get off track. "McGee cleared to go home?"
"His doctor is signing off on his release papers as we speak and a nurse is helping him dress."
The nurse in question came out of McGee's room at that moment and Gibbs used the opportunity to slip past her and into the room. "Hey, you about ready to blow this joint?"
"Yeah." McGee was quiet and subdued, but he'd been that way ever since his fever had broken and he'd been aware enough to remember and ask questions. He still hadn't made a formal statement or even talk much about what had happened to him, but the evidence had given them enough to close the case from an investigative angle. On a more personal angle, Gibbs was willing to wait until Tim felt safe enough to talk about it - hopefully to him, but Rachel Cranston was ready and willing to step in when needed.
Another nurse arrived with a wheelchair, Ducky right behind her, and Gibbs moved to Tim less injured side to help him up. "All right, we'll have you back to my place and tucked in before you know it."
With Gibbs' help, Tim stood and hobbled over to the chair. "I don't want to be a bother."
Hating those words and the return of the timidness, Gibbs wrapped his arm a little tighter around his waist. "Not a bother." He cupped Tim's face, forcing him to look up. "Never a bother." That got a wan smile, but he'd take it for now.
Unsurprisingly, the ride home was quiet. Gibbs didn't try to force any kind of conversation and immediately helped him upstairs when they arrived home. Tim was obviously tired and didn't argue at all when his shoes were removed and he was tucked into bed. "Ducky will be here in a couple of hours to check on you, so grab yourself a nap without any nurses bothering you."
"That sounds really good." Closing his eyes, McGee was out just like that. Gibbs spent another moment smoothing the blankets and watching him sleep before noticing that the drawer in the nightstand was just a little bit crooked. The guide was a little worn, he'd noticed earlier, but he'd been very careful in closing it back up.
Curious and a little bit suspicious, he eased the drawer open and stared down at the new arrival. Luckily he'd found it and not McGee. Tim was pretty easy going, but waking up in Gibbs' bedroom and finding a fresh and waiting bottle of lube in the otherwise empty nightstand would probably be a little strange. Quietly he lifted it out and took it with him, dropping it in the back of one of the bathroom drawers on his way downstairs. He was still trying to decide what to think about the surprise gift when Ducky arrived.
"Jethro? Is everything all right? You seem perturbed."
"Answer a question for me, Duck."
"Of course."
It took a minute to put it into words. "Describe my relationship with McGee."
Judging from his expression the question was not what Ducky was expecting, but he gave it some serious thought. "Timothy's kidnapping has fundamentally changed how you look at him. Prior to this dreadful experience, you kept yourself apart from him. Not to the extreme, but to those of us who really know you, it was apparent."
He hadn't realized that, but Ducky was still talking. "As to the why, seeing how you struggled when he was missing, and then these last few weeks while he's been in the hospital, I suspect that the exact opposite of everyone's assumptions to be true. That it was not that you somehow cared less, that in fact, you cared so deeply that you were unable to face it. At least until the very real possibility of losing Timothy forced the issue.
"Now the real question has become - will you explore those changes with him, or push your feelings, along with Timothy, aside to return to the very safe status quo?"
"It's not that easy, Duck."
"Important things never are, my friend."
---NCIS---
After barely touching his lunch, McGee went right back to bed. An hour later, Gibbs wasn't all that surprised when the nightmare started. He rushed upstairs to find Tim thrashing around, sweating and shaking. "Easy, easy." The moment he touched him, Tim sat up with a gasp before curling in on himself.
"You're safe, it's okay." Out of his element, Gibbs could only rub his back and offer what felt like meaningless platitudes. Eventually he seemed to get through and Tim took a deep breath as he straightened out a little. "I'll get you some water."
There was an empty glass on the nightstand from when Tim had taken his pills earlier, so Gibbs refilled it in the bathroom before returning to the bedroom. He helped Tim to sit up, then supported the glass as he drank some. When Tim pulled back, Gibbs set the glass down, but didn't let go of him. It took a minute, but eventually Tim leaned against him and accepted the offered comfort.
"Were you able to find any family for Mr. Wahl?"
That had been McGee's only real question after he'd regained consciousness enough to remember where he'd been when he was attacked. The funeral had been while McGee was still in intensive care, but most of the team had attended, only Gibbs remained at the hospital and had seen the guilt and grief. He didn't lie, but it was honestly tempting. "Not yet. He and his wife never had children and he was the only one of his family to survive the camps. One of his neighbors remembers talk of a niece on the wife's side of the family, but that's not a lot to go on."
"Maybe I could find her."
"Maybe later, after you're back on your feet. If she exists, she wasn't particularly close to him."
"He didn't deserve what happened to him."
"Neither did you." Gibbs was glad to see him opening up just a bit. Hopefully he could help him let go of some of the misplaced guilt.
"I didn't save him. I didn't even see it coming."
"Nobody was expecting you to. You were getting lunch, not clearing a building." Gibbs hesitated, then decided to push some more. "The security camera picked up most of what happened. You were shot the moment you stepped through the door. There wasn't time to react, not even enough time to see your attackers."
Tim didn't seem surprised by that. Gibbs didn't know if that meant he remembered or not. "The gutters overflowed, I remember that. Bunch of water poured down my back."
"What's the next thing you remember?"
Tim's hand moved to press against the still healing wound. "Pain. Being on the ground. Yelling." He frowned and Gibbs could see the few fragments of memory slotting into place. "Somebody trying to get my weapon." His hand slipped down to his rib cage. "Getting kicked. Woke up in the trunk of a car. They shot him with my gun, didn't they? Mr. Wahl?"
Again, lying was tempting, but that wasn't his way. "Zablocki was going to shoot you; Mr. Wahl charged at him."
"Yeah." There was an exhausted undertone that Gibbs didn't like. "Zablocki, that's the one I killed, right?"
Now they were getting to the heart of the matter and Gibbs rubbed his back gently. "Can you tell me what happened?"
The words came haltingly at first, then started tumbling out, drawing every possible emotion from Gibbs. Pride at how he'd sorted out his options while bouncing around in the trunk of the car, hiding his cuffs and keeping his knife hidden. Disgust at the rotten food thrown at him while caged up like an animal. Fury at how he'd been poked and burned with the red hot rebar. Then Tim started talking about being pulled out of the cage and Gibbs felt the knot of terror in his gut tighten.
"I knew I had to get him to pull me out of that cage. It was the only way I'd ever had a chance to escape, so I let him nail me a few times with that metal rod. It hurt, it hurt so bad, but I had to make him think he'd beaten me, then I grabbed the rod and got it away from him."
Gibbs wrapped his arms around Tim a little tighter. "That make Zablocki mad?"
"'Ready to dance, piggy', that's what he said." Tim shuddered at the memory, his hand touching his waist. "All I had on me was that short knife that fit in my belt buckle, the one Tony gave me when you made me part of the team."
He hadn't known about that, but silently thanked his senior agent as he continued to listen.
"The blade wasn't long enough to stab somebody, not unless I could hit the perfect spot, but I knew a bloody wound would stop him, at least long enough to try and run, so I needed to hit an artery."
"The neck was your best bet."
"Yeah. I wasn't actively trying to kill him, but I honestly didn't care what happened to him at that point. I knew they were planning on torturing me to death, but if he was out of the picture, the other one wasn't smart enough to actually plan something out. If I'd have charged at him, he would have just slammed the cage shut, so I - I acted like I was trying to attack him with the bar, let him grab the end and pull me out of the cage."
Gibbs just nodded. It was a good plan. "That's when you went for his throat?"
"Used the momentum, pretended to stumble right into him. He never even saw it coming. The blood hit my face and I knew it had worked. He looked so surprised when he let go of me to grab at his throat. He was screaming and holding the skin, but not putting any pressure on the wound itself. The other guy - Robbie?"
Gibbs gave another nod, confirming the suspect's name without interrupting the narrative. Tim shuddered again and kept going, his voice getting softer and more tentative.
"Robbie just stared at him, like he didn't think it was real. I didn't have a clue where I was and I knew that I couldn't outrun him, but I thought if I could get into the woods, I could hide."
He knew that Tim was second-guessing himself. "It was the only thing you could do. We all saw the shape you were in when we found you. Nobody could fight like that. Just the fact that you were able to do what you did is practically a miracle in itself."
"I guess."
The emotional scars from this nightmare would take time to heal, he knew, but it was still hard to see Tim go through it. "You made it out alive. If that meant that one of the bad guys didn't, then so be it." Gibbs cupped Tim's cheek and turned his face enough that they could make eye contact. "You're still with us and that's what's important to me."
That got a smile and Gibbs let himself enjoy the closeness for a moment before pulling back. Tim was covered in a light layer of sweat from his nightmare and Gibbs didn't want him to get chilled. Just as the thought crossed his mind, Tim shivered, confirming Gibbs' plan. "How about a nice warm shower?"
A nod and a little wider smile, Gibbs was pleased as he helped Tim to his feet. He'd stuck a little heater into the bathroom in anticipation of McGee's arrival and turned it on as soon as they got into the bathroom and he'd closed the door. Stepping behind him, Gibbs helped Tim remove his t-shirt, then looked over Tim's shoulder and into the mirror.
"Oh, Tim." The words were out before he could stop them as he stared into the mirror at the scars. The mangled scar over the bullet wound where they'd had to repeatedly operate, trying to control the infection. The scars from the chest tubes that had drained fluid for weeks instead of the hoped for days. Then there was the scar from where they'd had to go in and stabilize a broken rib that had shifted and punctured his lung while he'd been out of his mind with a fever. Of all the scars, the ones that angered him the most were the partially healed burns. Watching Tim's face for any sign of discomfort, he stroked his fingers lightly over the angry red marks. "Does it hurt?"
Tim's eyes met his in the mirror. "Only if I move enough to stretch the skin."
Gibbs still had his arms around Tim. "I'll talk to Ducky about getting some sort of cream that will help those scars heal up."
"I think they sent me home with some."
He had a vague memory of a large tube of something in the bag, but it wasn't part of the necessary medications they'd explained to him. "I'll take a look after your shower."
Only to himself would Gibbs admit that he looked as Tim finished undressing, but it was the obvious weight loss and suddenly angular frame that he noticed more than the soft body hair and the well proportioned dick, though he did want to run his fingers through that hair and watch that dick harden up. Pushing those desire aside, he helped Tim into the shower and stayed close while the younger man showered.
He had two towels ready when the water turned off. One he carefully wrapped around Tim's waist before helping him step over the tub, and with the other he carefully dried Tim.
Tim finally looked at him, his eyes wide and soft. "Gibbs?"
His hand cupped that soft cheek. "Came so close to losing you, too damned close."
"I knew you'd find me."
"Always." Feeling something he couldn't - or wouldn't - identify, Gibbs lead him back to the bedroom. Tim looked beyond exhaustion so Gibbs sat him on the edge of the bed before retrieving a set of sweats. Once the pants were on he gently pushed McGee down onto the bed and stood. "Before you put on a shirt, let me go find that cream."
Returning the towels to the bathroom, Gibbs found himself staring at the drawer where he'd stashed the lube earlier. There were so many things wrong with that scenario that he refused to think about it. Shaking his head, he took the stairs two at a time down to the kitchen. Checking the schedule Ducky had written up, Gibbs went ahead and grabbed the bottle of antibiotics along with the tube of ointment. It would save him a trip later. After a quick internal debate he picked up the whole bag to eliminate any reason for coming back downstairs until dinnertime.
Back upstairs, he set the bag down on the dresser and carried the ointment to the bed. Sitting on the edge, he helped Tim sit up and started working the ointment into each mark, starting on his back. Tim leaned heavier and heavier onto him. It felt good holding him like that and Gibbs took his time rubbing the thick gel into each and every forming scar. Eventually every mark was treated, some of them even twice, and it was time for Gibbs to lay the now sleeping man down.
As hard as that was, it was even harder letting go, but finally - eventually, as he reminded himself about rule 12 - Gibbs pulled back. He took his time getting McGee laying in the bed, making sure he was as comfortable as possible before escaping downstairs.
Two steps into the basement and he changed his mind. That was too far away to truly hear the recovering man. Instead, Gibbs decided to watch a game on television. He didn't even need sound for that. Finding the right channel, he watched as the image narrowed, widened, then finally settled in a somewhat diagonal pattern, too distorted to even identify the teams. A couple of firm pats on the side of the old console didn't improve it any and Gibbs gave up, turning it off once again.
Increasingly restless, he wandered around the living room for a few minutes, trying to find a book to read. His current novel, a favorite western, was upstairs on the nightstand. He'd have to go back up and get it - or stay up there to read, which was the original plan.
The internal debate still raging, Gibbs quietly walked into the bedroom. McGee was still asleep, but he looked uncomfortable, his eyes rapidly moving under the closed lids. Almost on autopilot, Gibbs sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard as he picked up his book.
Asleep or not, Tim seemed to sense that Gibbs was there and shifted over to press up against him. As soon as he was tucked against Gibbs, his sleep deepened.
Losing interest in his book even before he opened it, Gibbs moved them around slightly, just enough that he could comfortably wrap his arm around Tim.
"Jethro."
It was so soft, just slightly more than an exhale, that he couldn't be sure, not really. In his gut he knew what he'd heard and it felt right. Almost without conscious thought, he started running his fingers up and down Tim's back, enjoying the little sighs and purrs of contentment as Tim finally and fully relaxed.
Tentatively he bent down and brushed his lips across Tim's forehead, eliciting a happy sound from the sleeping man.
He had rules, though, damn it. Rules that he never broke. He watched Tim for another few minutes, thought about how he felt about the other man, felt how good it was to hold him like this. Maybe, just maybe, he could bend that rule a little bit.
Maybe.
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Healing Scars
It had been four weeks, three separate trips to the operating room and two hospitals, but McGee was finally being released today. He was way too thin, easily tired and chilled and still on antibiotics, but the doctors at Bethesda and Ducky had all agreed the rest of his recovery could happen in the care of his team.
Tony hadn't been surprised when Gibbs announced that McGee would be recovering at his place, but he felt that a quick check was in order, so he'd decided to show up bright and early that morning, just to make sure.
"Hey, Boss."
Gibbs glanced down at his watch before raising an eyebrow. "DiNozzo? You're up awfully early."
"Just wanted to see if you needed any last minute help." He and Abby had talked about it a lot over the last few weeks and they'd both come to the conclusion that neither man had any idea of how their relationship was changing and they'd decided that a little nudge was in order. "I mean, I don't think McGee's shoulder is up to sleeping on the couch quite yet."
Gibbs rolled his eyes, which was a very good sign. "I'm not making him sleep on the couch."
"Well, that's good." Actually, it was very, very good, but Tony wanted to make sure. "It's just that the upstairs here doesn't seem to see a while lot of action and..." Come on, Gibbs, take the hint.
"You want to check and make sure it's up to snuff?" Yes!! There was more than a touch of sarcasm in Gibbs' tone, but at least it got Tony upstairs to check. Abby wanted him to slip some lube into a drawer someplace, but he thought that was pushing it a bit far.
Nevertheless, Tony bounded up the stairs two at a time. Usually Gibbs would head him off at the pass when he tried to go upstairs, so he'd never actually seen any of the bedrooms, which ground him to a halt once he'd reached the top of the stairs. He was in a small landing, surrounded by closed doors. Barging into Kelly's old bedroom would put a dampener on the mood they were hoping to encourage between Gibbs and McGee and walking into the bathroom would just be weird. Luckily, Gibbs was right behind him and opened one of the doors.
The room was larger than he was expecting, filled with light from the picture window. The bed was an antique and made up with a masculine looking comforter set. Probably one of those bed in a bag sets that most department stores sold, but it was new and fresh and comfortable looking and that was what mattered.
Besides the bedding, the other obviously new feature in the room was the flat screen TV mounted on the wall opposite the bed, generations apart from the ancient tube set down in the living room. "No rabbit ears?"
That earned him an eye roll. "Cable was installed yesterday."
Tony was very pleased with that addition. "Downstairs, too?"
"The installer didn't have the right connector for that television."
He managed not to laugh, but it was close. "Had he actually ever seen a television that old before, Boss?"
"Why are you here again, DiNozzo?
This time he did laugh. "Just making sure you're ready for Tim, Boss." Casually he checked the closet. The clothes he'd picked up from McGee's place were mostly hanging up. He assumed the sweats and t-shirts were in the dresser, but checking on that probably would be pushing his luck. Several books were on the nightstand and unless McGee had suddenly picked up an interest in westerns, it looked to be a mix of books for both men. That suggested Gibbs was planning on spending significant time up here. Pleased, he was ready to leave. "Abby is bringing food for you guys later but give a holler if you need anything."
---NCIS---
DiNozzo finally out of the house, Gibbs was ready to go to the hospital. Ducky was meeting him there to review McGee's post-hospital care. Ziva had been practical and efficient in helping him get ready for McGee to stay, but the rest of the team had been oddly annoying and repeatedly under foot. Like now, as he was walking out to the car, Abby was pulling in, a large casserole dish wedged into the passenger seat. Dinner for tonight was great, but it was only 0730.
"Little early, aren't you?"
"Are you on your way to pick up McGee? Oh, that's so great." She clapped and gave him a hug, not offended at all when he rolled his eyes. Twice in one day, he must be losing his touch. "I'm just going to stick this in the refrigerator for you. The reheating directions are on the lid."
Yep, there was a post-it note stuck to the lid. "I think I can handle that."
"I'm so proud of you, Gibbs." She gave him another hug, this one longer and even tighter. He really needed to figure out what in the hell was going on with her and DiNozzo.
"Reheating food isn't exactly rocket science, Abby."
Way too perky, she finally let go of him and grabbed the pot instead. He was really ready to leave, but her enthusiasm after Tony's early arrival pinged his gut. Not bad, but something was definitely up, so he followed her back inside.
Dinner went into the fridge as promised, but then she started looking around the house, frowning at the television in the living room. "Don't you think it's about time you replaced this old thing, Gibbs?"
"Why? It works fine. Besides, I just bought one for upstairs."
"Upstairs? Really?" She seemed way too happy for such a simple thing.
"Yeah, well, Ducky doesn't want McGee overdoing it. Especially these first few days."
"That's great, Gibbs. Too bad you don't have internet. I could bring him a laptop to play on."
And there were the puppy dog eyes. He was glad this time he'd beaten her to the punch. "Have it, Abs. Bundled with the new cable service. Ooff." The flying hug almost tackled him to the ground, but he managed to stay on his feet even if he were a good five feet back from where they started. "No computer for the first week, though. I don't want him to feel like he needs to check on work."
"You got it, Boss-man. Are you sure his room is ready? McGee's more used to creature comforts than you are, Gibbs."
Did everyone think him incapable of putting sheets on a damned bed? "You want to go check upstairs? First door on the left. I gotta go."
---NCIS---
"You want to go check upstairs? First door on the left. I gotta go." Gibbs gave her a strange look before heading out the door. Luckily she hadn't parked in back of him, otherwise he'd be expecting her to come out and move her car.
Once Gibbs was gone, she scurried up the stairs and opened the door on the left. The room was nice, even if it were a little generic. The television was a good size, just big enough for the space, and McGee would be able to see it easily from the bed. The books on the nightstand looked promising as they were a wide range of genre. Would the two man sit together and read, or would Gibbs sit next to a sleeping McGee, quietly reading to keep him company?
She liked both options, actually. Would they want to watch the same shows on television? If not, Gibbs might go back downstairs to watch something on his old set and that just wouldn't do. First, she had to add a little something to the nightstand. Tony might have been a little too much of a prude, but that was something Abby was never accused of being. That mission accomplished, Abby went back downstairs. It was time that old television had a wiring issue.
---NCIS---
Ducky actually glanced down at his watch when Gibbs arrived outside McGee's hospital room. "Don't ask, it's been an interesting morning."
"Oh?"
"Not sure why my buying some new bedding needs multiple inspections." That seemed to amuse Ducky, but Gibbs didn't want to let him get off track. "McGee cleared to go home?"
"His doctor is signing off on his release papers as we speak and a nurse is helping him dress."
The nurse in question came out of McGee's room at that moment and Gibbs used the opportunity to slip past her and into the room. "Hey, you about ready to blow this joint?"
"Yeah." McGee was quiet and subdued, but he'd been that way ever since his fever had broken and he'd been aware enough to remember and ask questions. He still hadn't made a formal statement or even talk much about what had happened to him, but the evidence had given them enough to close the case from an investigative angle. On a more personal angle, Gibbs was willing to wait until Tim felt safe enough to talk about it - hopefully to him, but Rachel Cranston was ready and willing to step in when needed.
Another nurse arrived with a wheelchair, Ducky right behind her, and Gibbs moved to Tim less injured side to help him up. "All right, we'll have you back to my place and tucked in before you know it."
With Gibbs' help, Tim stood and hobbled over to the chair. "I don't want to be a bother."
Hating those words and the return of the timidness, Gibbs wrapped his arm a little tighter around his waist. "Not a bother." He cupped Tim's face, forcing him to look up. "Never a bother." That got a wan smile, but he'd take it for now.
Unsurprisingly, the ride home was quiet. Gibbs didn't try to force any kind of conversation and immediately helped him upstairs when they arrived home. Tim was obviously tired and didn't argue at all when his shoes were removed and he was tucked into bed. "Ducky will be here in a couple of hours to check on you, so grab yourself a nap without any nurses bothering you."
"That sounds really good." Closing his eyes, McGee was out just like that. Gibbs spent another moment smoothing the blankets and watching him sleep before noticing that the drawer in the nightstand was just a little bit crooked. The guide was a little worn, he'd noticed earlier, but he'd been very careful in closing it back up.
Curious and a little bit suspicious, he eased the drawer open and stared down at the new arrival. Luckily he'd found it and not McGee. Tim was pretty easy going, but waking up in Gibbs' bedroom and finding a fresh and waiting bottle of lube in the otherwise empty nightstand would probably be a little strange. Quietly he lifted it out and took it with him, dropping it in the back of one of the bathroom drawers on his way downstairs. He was still trying to decide what to think about the surprise gift when Ducky arrived.
"Jethro? Is everything all right? You seem perturbed."
"Answer a question for me, Duck."
"Of course."
It took a minute to put it into words. "Describe my relationship with McGee."
Judging from his expression the question was not what Ducky was expecting, but he gave it some serious thought. "Timothy's kidnapping has fundamentally changed how you look at him. Prior to this dreadful experience, you kept yourself apart from him. Not to the extreme, but to those of us who really know you, it was apparent."
He hadn't realized that, but Ducky was still talking. "As to the why, seeing how you struggled when he was missing, and then these last few weeks while he's been in the hospital, I suspect that the exact opposite of everyone's assumptions to be true. That it was not that you somehow cared less, that in fact, you cared so deeply that you were unable to face it. At least until the very real possibility of losing Timothy forced the issue.
"Now the real question has become - will you explore those changes with him, or push your feelings, along with Timothy, aside to return to the very safe status quo?"
"It's not that easy, Duck."
"Important things never are, my friend."
---NCIS---
After barely touching his lunch, McGee went right back to bed. An hour later, Gibbs wasn't all that surprised when the nightmare started. He rushed upstairs to find Tim thrashing around, sweating and shaking. "Easy, easy." The moment he touched him, Tim sat up with a gasp before curling in on himself.
"You're safe, it's okay." Out of his element, Gibbs could only rub his back and offer what felt like meaningless platitudes. Eventually he seemed to get through and Tim took a deep breath as he straightened out a little. "I'll get you some water."
There was an empty glass on the nightstand from when Tim had taken his pills earlier, so Gibbs refilled it in the bathroom before returning to the bedroom. He helped Tim to sit up, then supported the glass as he drank some. When Tim pulled back, Gibbs set the glass down, but didn't let go of him. It took a minute, but eventually Tim leaned against him and accepted the offered comfort.
"Were you able to find any family for Mr. Wahl?"
That had been McGee's only real question after he'd regained consciousness enough to remember where he'd been when he was attacked. The funeral had been while McGee was still in intensive care, but most of the team had attended, only Gibbs remained at the hospital and had seen the guilt and grief. He didn't lie, but it was honestly tempting. "Not yet. He and his wife never had children and he was the only one of his family to survive the camps. One of his neighbors remembers talk of a niece on the wife's side of the family, but that's not a lot to go on."
"Maybe I could find her."
"Maybe later, after you're back on your feet. If she exists, she wasn't particularly close to him."
"He didn't deserve what happened to him."
"Neither did you." Gibbs was glad to see him opening up just a bit. Hopefully he could help him let go of some of the misplaced guilt.
"I didn't save him. I didn't even see it coming."
"Nobody was expecting you to. You were getting lunch, not clearing a building." Gibbs hesitated, then decided to push some more. "The security camera picked up most of what happened. You were shot the moment you stepped through the door. There wasn't time to react, not even enough time to see your attackers."
Tim didn't seem surprised by that. Gibbs didn't know if that meant he remembered or not. "The gutters overflowed, I remember that. Bunch of water poured down my back."
"What's the next thing you remember?"
Tim's hand moved to press against the still healing wound. "Pain. Being on the ground. Yelling." He frowned and Gibbs could see the few fragments of memory slotting into place. "Somebody trying to get my weapon." His hand slipped down to his rib cage. "Getting kicked. Woke up in the trunk of a car. They shot him with my gun, didn't they? Mr. Wahl?"
Again, lying was tempting, but that wasn't his way. "Zablocki was going to shoot you; Mr. Wahl charged at him."
"Yeah." There was an exhausted undertone that Gibbs didn't like. "Zablocki, that's the one I killed, right?"
Now they were getting to the heart of the matter and Gibbs rubbed his back gently. "Can you tell me what happened?"
The words came haltingly at first, then started tumbling out, drawing every possible emotion from Gibbs. Pride at how he'd sorted out his options while bouncing around in the trunk of the car, hiding his cuffs and keeping his knife hidden. Disgust at the rotten food thrown at him while caged up like an animal. Fury at how he'd been poked and burned with the red hot rebar. Then Tim started talking about being pulled out of the cage and Gibbs felt the knot of terror in his gut tighten.
"I knew I had to get him to pull me out of that cage. It was the only way I'd ever had a chance to escape, so I let him nail me a few times with that metal rod. It hurt, it hurt so bad, but I had to make him think he'd beaten me, then I grabbed the rod and got it away from him."
Gibbs wrapped his arms around Tim a little tighter. "That make Zablocki mad?"
"'Ready to dance, piggy', that's what he said." Tim shuddered at the memory, his hand touching his waist. "All I had on me was that short knife that fit in my belt buckle, the one Tony gave me when you made me part of the team."
He hadn't known about that, but silently thanked his senior agent as he continued to listen.
"The blade wasn't long enough to stab somebody, not unless I could hit the perfect spot, but I knew a bloody wound would stop him, at least long enough to try and run, so I needed to hit an artery."
"The neck was your best bet."
"Yeah. I wasn't actively trying to kill him, but I honestly didn't care what happened to him at that point. I knew they were planning on torturing me to death, but if he was out of the picture, the other one wasn't smart enough to actually plan something out. If I'd have charged at him, he would have just slammed the cage shut, so I - I acted like I was trying to attack him with the bar, let him grab the end and pull me out of the cage."
Gibbs just nodded. It was a good plan. "That's when you went for his throat?"
"Used the momentum, pretended to stumble right into him. He never even saw it coming. The blood hit my face and I knew it had worked. He looked so surprised when he let go of me to grab at his throat. He was screaming and holding the skin, but not putting any pressure on the wound itself. The other guy - Robbie?"
Gibbs gave another nod, confirming the suspect's name without interrupting the narrative. Tim shuddered again and kept going, his voice getting softer and more tentative.
"Robbie just stared at him, like he didn't think it was real. I didn't have a clue where I was and I knew that I couldn't outrun him, but I thought if I could get into the woods, I could hide."
He knew that Tim was second-guessing himself. "It was the only thing you could do. We all saw the shape you were in when we found you. Nobody could fight like that. Just the fact that you were able to do what you did is practically a miracle in itself."
"I guess."
The emotional scars from this nightmare would take time to heal, he knew, but it was still hard to see Tim go through it. "You made it out alive. If that meant that one of the bad guys didn't, then so be it." Gibbs cupped Tim's cheek and turned his face enough that they could make eye contact. "You're still with us and that's what's important to me."
That got a smile and Gibbs let himself enjoy the closeness for a moment before pulling back. Tim was covered in a light layer of sweat from his nightmare and Gibbs didn't want him to get chilled. Just as the thought crossed his mind, Tim shivered, confirming Gibbs' plan. "How about a nice warm shower?"
A nod and a little wider smile, Gibbs was pleased as he helped Tim to his feet. He'd stuck a little heater into the bathroom in anticipation of McGee's arrival and turned it on as soon as they got into the bathroom and he'd closed the door. Stepping behind him, Gibbs helped Tim remove his t-shirt, then looked over Tim's shoulder and into the mirror.
"Oh, Tim." The words were out before he could stop them as he stared into the mirror at the scars. The mangled scar over the bullet wound where they'd had to repeatedly operate, trying to control the infection. The scars from the chest tubes that had drained fluid for weeks instead of the hoped for days. Then there was the scar from where they'd had to go in and stabilize a broken rib that had shifted and punctured his lung while he'd been out of his mind with a fever. Of all the scars, the ones that angered him the most were the partially healed burns. Watching Tim's face for any sign of discomfort, he stroked his fingers lightly over the angry red marks. "Does it hurt?"
Tim's eyes met his in the mirror. "Only if I move enough to stretch the skin."
Gibbs still had his arms around Tim. "I'll talk to Ducky about getting some sort of cream that will help those scars heal up."
"I think they sent me home with some."
He had a vague memory of a large tube of something in the bag, but it wasn't part of the necessary medications they'd explained to him. "I'll take a look after your shower."
Only to himself would Gibbs admit that he looked as Tim finished undressing, but it was the obvious weight loss and suddenly angular frame that he noticed more than the soft body hair and the well proportioned dick, though he did want to run his fingers through that hair and watch that dick harden up. Pushing those desire aside, he helped Tim into the shower and stayed close while the younger man showered.
He had two towels ready when the water turned off. One he carefully wrapped around Tim's waist before helping him step over the tub, and with the other he carefully dried Tim.
Tim finally looked at him, his eyes wide and soft. "Gibbs?"
His hand cupped that soft cheek. "Came so close to losing you, too damned close."
"I knew you'd find me."
"Always." Feeling something he couldn't - or wouldn't - identify, Gibbs lead him back to the bedroom. Tim looked beyond exhaustion so Gibbs sat him on the edge of the bed before retrieving a set of sweats. Once the pants were on he gently pushed McGee down onto the bed and stood. "Before you put on a shirt, let me go find that cream."
Returning the towels to the bathroom, Gibbs found himself staring at the drawer where he'd stashed the lube earlier. There were so many things wrong with that scenario that he refused to think about it. Shaking his head, he took the stairs two at a time down to the kitchen. Checking the schedule Ducky had written up, Gibbs went ahead and grabbed the bottle of antibiotics along with the tube of ointment. It would save him a trip later. After a quick internal debate he picked up the whole bag to eliminate any reason for coming back downstairs until dinnertime.
Back upstairs, he set the bag down on the dresser and carried the ointment to the bed. Sitting on the edge, he helped Tim sit up and started working the ointment into each mark, starting on his back. Tim leaned heavier and heavier onto him. It felt good holding him like that and Gibbs took his time rubbing the thick gel into each and every forming scar. Eventually every mark was treated, some of them even twice, and it was time for Gibbs to lay the now sleeping man down.
As hard as that was, it was even harder letting go, but finally - eventually, as he reminded himself about rule 12 - Gibbs pulled back. He took his time getting McGee laying in the bed, making sure he was as comfortable as possible before escaping downstairs.
Two steps into the basement and he changed his mind. That was too far away to truly hear the recovering man. Instead, Gibbs decided to watch a game on television. He didn't even need sound for that. Finding the right channel, he watched as the image narrowed, widened, then finally settled in a somewhat diagonal pattern, too distorted to even identify the teams. A couple of firm pats on the side of the old console didn't improve it any and Gibbs gave up, turning it off once again.
Increasingly restless, he wandered around the living room for a few minutes, trying to find a book to read. His current novel, a favorite western, was upstairs on the nightstand. He'd have to go back up and get it - or stay up there to read, which was the original plan.
The internal debate still raging, Gibbs quietly walked into the bedroom. McGee was still asleep, but he looked uncomfortable, his eyes rapidly moving under the closed lids. Almost on autopilot, Gibbs sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard as he picked up his book.
Asleep or not, Tim seemed to sense that Gibbs was there and shifted over to press up against him. As soon as he was tucked against Gibbs, his sleep deepened.
Losing interest in his book even before he opened it, Gibbs moved them around slightly, just enough that he could comfortably wrap his arm around Tim.
"Jethro."
It was so soft, just slightly more than an exhale, that he couldn't be sure, not really. In his gut he knew what he'd heard and it felt right. Almost without conscious thought, he started running his fingers up and down Tim's back, enjoying the little sighs and purrs of contentment as Tim finally and fully relaxed.
Tentatively he bent down and brushed his lips across Tim's forehead, eliciting a happy sound from the sleeping man.
He had rules, though, damn it. Rules that he never broke. He watched Tim for another few minutes, thought about how he felt about the other man, felt how good it was to hold him like this. Maybe, just maybe, he could bend that rule a little bit.
Maybe.
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