Stealth Dad 2/2
104.7 Gibbs stared at the numbers, not totally convinced that a reading taken from the ear was completely accurate. He cleared it and tried again. 104.8 Tossing it on the bedside table, he roughly shook McGee's shoulders to wake him. "McGee, Tim, come on, buddy, I need you to wake up. McGee? McGee, your computer's on fire."
That did it, and Gibbs had to dive out of the way to prevent a collision when McGee suddenly sat straight up, then fell back onto the bed.
Laughing to himself, Gibbs got the oral thermometer under Tim's tongue before he was fully asleep. This time the reading was even higher, 105.0 and Gibbs was getting worried. "Why isn't the Tylenol working?"
Tim rolled onto his side, snuggling down into the blankets. "Can't take Tylenol." He let out a sigh and was back asleep.
The niggling in the back of Gibbs' mind since his first trip to the pharmacy was getting louder. It had been years since he'd looked at McGee's medical history, but now it was ringing a bell. "Why not? Tim?" When he didn't get an answer, Gibbs wiped his hand down his face and climbed to his feet. Retreating to the bathroom, he called Ducky. The phone rang several times before a sleepy voice answered.
~This is Dr. Mallard.~
"Ducky, why can't McGee take Tylenol?"
~Jethro, what on Earth...~
"Ducky!" That apparently got the older man awake and going.
~Timothy is allergic to Tylenol. Perhaps not an allergy in the truest sense of the word, but he has enough of a sensitivity to make it a medication that he should not take. Jethro, what has happened?~
"What does it do to him?"
~It raises his body temperature, it can cause him to become confused, hallucinate even, if he takes a high enough dose.~
"Shit." Gibbs picked up the bottle and read off the dosage amounts, then gave the times each dose had been given. "His temperature's up to one hundred and five, Duck. How much danger is he in?"
By now Ducky sounded wide awake.
~How long ago did you last take his temperature?~
Gibbs glanced down at his watch. "Ten, maybe fifteen minutes ago."
~Check it again, Jethro, and where, exactly, are you?~
While he moved back into the main room and checked McGee's temperature, Gibbs explained what exit they'd taken and which motel they were in, along with what roads were closed around them. Finally, he heard a beep and looked at the reading. "It's stopped climbing, it's still at one-oh-five."
~That's good, but you still need to get it down as quickly as possible.~
"What do I use?"
~Well no more Tylenol, certainly.~
"Figured that one out on my own, Duck. Can he have aspirin?"
~I'm afraid that Timothy has a sensitivity to that as well. I would recommend Motrin. He has taken that successfully in the past and it won't react to the Tylenol already in his system. Also, ice packs would be proper. Treat him as you would someone suffering from excessive heat, ice packs on his neck and at his groin, where the blood is close to the surface.~
"Not sure that last one's a good idea, Duck." Gibbs moved back to the bathroom where he could talk without being overheard. "He's having flashbacks, I think."
~Flashbacks? To what, might I ask?~
Gibbs looked back out at the sleeping man. "There was nothing in his records, but I'm beginning to suspect that he might have been molested as a kid."
~Molested? Our Timothy?~ There was a pause as Ducky obviously thought about what he'd learned.
~Do what you can, Jethro, without putting any undue strain on him, and watch his temperature closely. Despite the weather, if it climbs another half a degree, we may have to consider airlifting him to a hospital. Call me every hour until his fever is under control.~
"All right, and Ducky?" He waited until he heard a response on the other end. "When we get back, I want a listing of every allergy, every sensitivity, McGee has. I want a print-out so I can keep it in my wallet."
~Of course, Jethro. Keep me posted.~
---NCIS---
Trudging across the parking lot one more time, Gibbs didn't have to think about where the deepest puddles and potholes were, he'd learned their location by rote memory by that point. He was half way across the lot when he realized that he'd left a potentially hallucinating man alone with a hand gun. Cursing at himself, he double-stepped it back to the room only to find McGee sleeping in the same position he'd left him in. Just to be safe, Gibbs took McGee's SIG and holster and clipped them to his belt. It felt odd to have one on each side, but in some ways it was the most normal part of the night. Yet again, he took off across the parking lot.
The clerk was waiting for him. "Saw you turn around, you forget your wallet? My old man does that all the time."
"Yeah, something like that. You got plastic zip-lock bags?" Not slowing down, Gibbs was directed to the right aisle and he detoured to pick up the Motrin on the way. Back at the register, he also got the directions to the nearest hospital, just in case.
Returning to the motel, Gibbs had to walk around to the front to find the ice machine. Filling two disposable buckets, he wanted plenty for the long night ahead. He also went into the office and was given an additional stack of towels and washcloths before returning to the room. After getting the new medicine down the other man, his next order of business was to check McGee's temperature again. Gibbs grimaced when he saw the two tenths of a degree increase. "Damn it, McGee, don't do this to me."
Bedding was tossed aside while two Ziploc bags were filled with ice, covered with a towel and placed on each side of Tim's neck. Two more were under his arms, firmly against his armpits and another pair were placed at the back of his knees. When McGee started to fight him, Gibbs held his head still. "Tim, listen to me. You're all right, you're safe, no one is going to hurt you." Tim's awareness seemed to increase and Gibbs leaned close. "I won't let anyone hurt you, Tim. I give you my word."
That seemed to work and after Tim calmed down, Gibbs took one half empty ice bucket into the bathroom, filled it with water and grabbed every washcloth and hand towel he could find to soak in the chilled water. Tim was restless by the time Gibbs returned, but he stilled almost the moment Gibbs sat on the edge of the bed.
Cold compresses went on Tim's forehead, throat and arms before Gibbs checked his temperature again. It hadn't dropped any, but it also hadn't risen. Under the circumstances, Gibbs considered that a win as he added cold towels over his legs.
For the next hour, until his next check-in with Ducky, Gibbs didn't move from McGee's side. He fell into a routine as he re-wet the compresses and shifted the ice bags, draining the water from the melting ice into the bucket he was wetting the washcloths and towels in.
When the time came to call Ducky back, Gibbs checked McGee's temperature again as he dialed. Ducky was obviously waiting for him because the phone barely rang before he heard Ducky's voice.
~Jethro, how is he? Has his temperature dropped at all?~
"He's not as restless, Duck, and his temp is 104.9."
~I had hoped for more, but I suppose as long as he's not getting any worse, it will do for the moment. I've spoken with one of the internists as Bethesda and he agrees with me that as long as Timothy doesn't take a turn for the worse he's better off staying put there tonight. An airlift would be quite dangerous in this storm.~
"Understood, Duck."
~That being said, I have called our friend at the Coast Guard and Agent Borin can pull some strings and get a Coast Guard helicopter for us if the need arises. Their crews are much more adept at dealing with severe weather.~
Gibbs let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Ducky"
~I will await your next call, Jethro.~
Tim flinched when Gibbs replaced the cloth on his leg, obviously trying to get away from someone.
"Easy, Tim." His attempts to calm the other man were unsuccessful as Tim became more restless.
"No, no... I won't... don't... please..."
Gibbs moved closer to the top of the bed and cupped his hand around Tim's face. "He's gone, he won't hurt you anymore, Son."
"Daddy?" Green eyes opened, but there was no recognition in them. "I tried to make him stop, please don't be mad at me."
For a second, Gibbs couldn't breathe. Decision made, he leaned close and rested the side of his face on Tim's head. "I'm not mad, Son, not at you. Never at you." Remembering the few nightmares Kelly had, Gibbs kept in physical contact, murmuring encouraging words until Tim was asleep again. He watched the sleeping man for a long time before returning to his duties.
After another shifting of the cold packs and re-wetting of the cloths, Gibbs ducked into the bathroom to make another call, this one he didn't want McGee to overhear at all. Scrolling through his contacts, he found one number he'd hoped to never use - Penny Langston, Tim's paternal grandmother and his official next-of-kin. She was the one person who could give him the answers he needed.
~Hello?~
"Ms. Langston, it's Jethro Gibbs."
~Jethro? Oh, no, is Timothy...~
"He has the flu."
~The flu? Heavens, it's the middle of the night, I thought...~
"When was he molested?"
~Excuse me?~
"I know it happened, I need details."
~No, you don't, and how did you find out about any of that? It's over and done with and I don't want Timothy to know anything about it.~
Gibbs was almost too shocked to say anything. "What?"
~He doesn't remember any of it and I want to keep it that way. As I said, it's over and done with.~
"Not from this end it's not, so start talking. How can you think he wouldn't remember?" There was a pause, then a sigh, then she started explaining as if she were talking to a child which didn't improve Gibbs' opinions.
~The man that hurt Timothy is dead, Jethro. My husband confronted him and when faced with a public arrest and trial that would have destroyed his family, he killed himself. Don't expect me to feel the slightest bit guilty about that.~
Gibbs didn't feel the least bit bad about a pervert's death, even if he suspected there was more involved than a simple suicide. "And your grandson?"
~There was no reason to burden him with those memories. I took him to a respected hypnotherapist and he took care of it. He remembers nothing of what happened.~
"Hate to burst your bubble, but he does remember, at least on some level. He's sick, running a high fever. At first I thought he was hallucinating, but it's too detailed."
~So he's not remembering on a conscious level? Then there's no reason to bring it up to him. It has not affected his life up until now. There's no reason to change that.~
Thinking back over the shyness and fears that plagued McGee, especially in the beginning, Gibbs wasn't so sure. "What about his father, does he know?" Finally, Penny's voice became hesitant.
~He knows there was an incident and it was handled. John is a good man and loves his son, but he has very high standards. Giving him additional details would not have helped his relationship with Timothy.~
"Standards? Tim was a child, not some piece of china that got a chip in it." Gibbs pinched the bridge of his nose, forcing himself to calm down. Arguing with her wouldn't do McGee any good, and that was his priority tonight. "You know what? Don't worry about it, I'll take care of Tim."
~You're not going to tell him, are you?~
"Guess it depends on how much he remembers when this is over, but I won't lie to him." Gibbs didn't wait for an answer as he closed his phone.
It was time to shift around the ice packs and wet the compresses once again and Gibbs found the simple act strangely soothing, taking great pleasure in the unconscious trust Tim appeared to have in him. It was almost time to call Ducky again, so Gibbs did a final check on McGee temperature before retreating to the bathroom once again to make another call.
"Hey, Duck."
~Jethro, how is he?~
"He's sleeping, his temp is down another tenth of a degree."
~That fever is being quite stubborn, but as long as he doesn't deteriorate, then we should be pleased. However, I sense that something else is wrong. What is it, Jethro?~
"Called his grandmother, confronted her, and she admitted what happened to him, but..."
~But what, Jethro?~
"His attacker very conveniently committed suicide rather than face charges and then Grandma took him to a hypnotherapist to wipe away the memories. Guess it didn't work quite as well as they'd hoped. What do I do, Duck? How do I help him?"
~Exactly what you have been doing, Jethro. Exactly what you have been doing.~
Gibbs returned to the room and continued to care for his young agent. After another hour with no significant change he wearily sat down, closing his eyes briefly. The rain outside was finally beginning to slack off, meaning help could get to them now if needed. When he opened his eyes back up his internal clock told him that it hadn't been that long, but something was definitely different. He looked closely and McGee was drenched and very still.
"Tim?" Gibbs lunged forward and wrapped his fingers around McGee's throat. Under his hand, the pulse was slow and steady and the skin was cool. Not fully trusting his touch, Gibbs scrambled for the thermometer and waited for the reading as the early morning light began to lighten the cloud filled sky. Not fully trusting the reading, he checked again, using the other ear, but it was the same - 99.1 - not totally normal, but McGee's fever had certainly broken.
He sagged in relief. "You did it, kiddo. You're going to be fine." Gathering all the bags of mostly melted ice and the other debris of the long night, Gibbs retreated to the bathroom and made a quick call, not giving the recipient a chance to say a word at first. "Ducky, his fever broke."
~Thank heavens, Jethro. All there is to do now is to make him comfortable and let him rest. I will let the Director know not to expect the two of you back until he's ready to travel.~
"Thanks, Ducky." Gibbs closed his phone and ran a hand down his face. His team was in danger often, but this night had been entirely different. Dumping out the cold water, Gibbs used the two ice buckets as wash basins, filling one with warm, soapy water and the second with clear water. After the washcloths were rinsed with hot water and wrung out, he returned to McGee's bedside and began washing the sweat off of him.
Face and neck first, then his arms. Even though Tim appeared deeply asleep, Gibbs talked softly, hoping his voice would ground the younger man in the here and now and push the half-buried memories further into the background. He tugged Tim's damp shirt up and washed his chest and stomach before lifting him up to wash his back.
Tim stirred slightly, sighing and turning his face to nestle in the curve of Gibbs' neck. Gibbs paused, but Tim quickly settled and so he resumed the sponge bath. Before he laid Tim back down, Gibbs slipped the sweat soaked t-shirt off of him and tossed it to the side. Legs were next and although Tim frowned and shifted when Gibbs washed his thighs, he didn't fight. Not wanting to cause further stress, Gibbs decided that was a good place to stop.
The bedding was damp and chilled so Gibbs folded back the top sheet and blanket on the other bed for him. It took a minute to plan out the best way, but Gibbs pulled Tim back up to a sitting position and shifted him around a bit before sliding one arm under Tim's knees and the other around his torso. McGee had certainly slimmed down over the years, but lifting a grown man was never easy. Nevertheless, Gibbs took a deep breath and braced himself, lifting Tim in his arms. Making sure he was balanced enough that he wouldn't drop Tim, he turned and took the two steps necessary to reach the other bed. Once Tim was deposited on the bed, Gibbs dropped down on the edge to catch his breath before tucking him in. Gibbs' arms were shaking, but if he were honest with himself, it was more from relief than the physical strain of lifting the other man.
Smiling at the picture he made, Gibbs watched as Tim rolled onto his side and snuggled into the dry bedding. Although he joked about it from time to time, he never felt more like a father to his team than at that moment. He thought about getting up and making a fresh pot of coffee, but never did get around to it as he watched Tim's breathing and touched the side of his face every once in a while to monitor his temperature. It was about 0800 when Tim shifted and his eyes started to move under the closed lids.
"Hey, you back with me?" Gibbs leaned close and waited for McGee to wake up.
"B'ss? Wha' h'pnnd?" He looked around, obviously confused, but becoming more aware. "Where are we?"
"You were sick so we stopped for the night. How are you feeling?"
This was the nice Gibbs, the solicitous Gibbs that only came out when things were bad. Tim looked around, and saw the assorted drugs and medical supplies, the pile of towels in the bathroom, another pile by the other bed. None of it he remembered at all. Embarrassed and worried, he ducked his head down. "Sorry, I hope I wasn't too much of a bother."
"Hey." Gibbs reached out and lifted Tim's chin, forcing him to look up at the older man giving him a soft smile as Gibbs remembered the long, sleepless night. "You're one of mine. That means you're never a bother - not to me - not ever. You got that?"
Tim slowly returned the smile with one that lit up his entire face. "Yeah. I got it."
"Good. Go back to sleep, you've had a long night." Gibbs watched as the green eyes slid closed and the breathing evened out again before leaning back in the wooden chair with a ghost of a smile on his face. A long night indeed.
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