"I'm terribly sorry, Jethro, but he needs more assistance than I'm capable of providing or qualified to give. His body is in a precariously delicate state right now, as I'm sure you can imagine, and I just don't know what else I can do for him except merely try to make him comfortable. He needs to be in a hospital, receiving fluids and antibiotics and having trained specialists monitor and evaluate and treat his condition. As much as I wish it were different, I feel as though I'm doing nothing more than placing a band-aid over a severed limb and expecting the patient to make some type of miraculous recovery. He needs help desperately, Jethro, and he needs it now."
Jethro Gibbs was sprawled exhaustedly in a large, floral-print armchair by the small, round table near the room's only window and was absently watching the light snow continue drifting down from the heavens. It was so peaceful, so tranquil, and it was almost impossible to believe such imhumane actions could have been perpetrated by anyone residing in such a hauntingly beautiful area of the country. This was a place of cleanliness and wide-open spaces and astounding vistas of landscapes so breath-taking, it was almost obscene to imagine it was even on the same planet as some of the filthy, smoggy, litter-ridden cities he'd experienced during his lifetime. He rolled his head against the padded back of the chair and turned away from the view outside, bringing a hand up from the armrest to rub wearily at his bloodshot eyes and taking a moment to consider the medical examiner's whispered words before looking directly at the older man.
"I know he does, Ducky," Gibbs agreed just as quietly, not wanting to disturb the sleeping figure nestled under the thick blanket and comforter on the big bed just a few feet away from where they sat conversing, "but I keep having the feeling he's still in danger, that we need to keep him hidden, and that taking him to some hospital will just put him right back into the hands of those who did this to him in the first place."
Ducky sat back in his matching chair on the other side of the table and absorbed the words, his lined face growing hard and bitter. "Good lord, I hadn't even considered that possibility. So, what do you propose? We just can't keep him here in the condition he's in. We've got to find someplace safe where he can receive the care he needs. Jethro, I really don't think you fully understand the amount of damage his body surely..."
"I understand well enough!" Gibbs hissed angrily and pulled himself forward, elbows on knees, and hands clenched tightly together in the space formed between his spread legs. The figure on the bed stirred slightly, only a bit of dark hair visible at the top of the white sheet, and both men watched tensely until it was motionless once more, the older man arching an accusing eyebrow in silent reprimand at his companion. Gibbs grunted and leaned back again but his body still reflected his tension and irritation. "We've got a huge dilemma here, Duck. If we take him to a hospital and explain what we *think* has happened to him..."
"I should think it's fairly obvious," Ducky threw in tartly.
"...and turn his care over to someone else, one of three things could happen. One," he raised a lone finger, "they don't believe a single word we say, they call the appropriate authorities, and Child Services becomes responsible for him or, two," another finger joined the first, "they do believe us, contact a different set of appropriate authorities because of the unusual nature of his medical condition, and is, once again, studied like some lab specimen in a cage."
When Gibbs hesitated, Ducky leaned forward and cocked his head to one side. "You said three things could happen. What's the third?"
If possible, Gibbs looked even more grim as he raised a final finger. "Or whoever contacted Wilson-Halley and tipped him off to our presence here in Idaho will be looking for a way to get DiNozzo back to Martinez, so he can finish what he started and probably end up killing him in the process."
Still leaning forward, Ducky slowly reached out with one hand and placed it on Gibbs' closest knee, looking across the small space dividing them, hoping to convey his petition to the man even clearer. "Jethro, if he doesn't get some help very soon, he'll more than likely die right here in this bed."
Gibbs swallowed thickly. Letting his eyes track back to the huddled shape under the warm covers, and wanting nothing more than to slide right into the sheets with the injured man, the agent shook his head at their quandry.
"Hell, we're damned if we do and damned if we don't."
Ducky nodded in agreement but kept his hand lightly on the other man's knee, his _expression changing as he considered his next thought. "Jethro, I must ask you something, and I will understand perfectly if you think it none of my business, but it's something that's concerned me ever since our dear Caitlin's untimely death."
Gibbs shifted a little in the chair but met the curious gaze of the older man steadily. "What is it?"
"You and young Anthony have become much closer since that terrible event," Ducky watched as Gibbs averted his gaze, the blue eyes suddenly dropping to some spot on the carpeted floor, "and I've noticed how you both interact while in each other's company..."
"I don't know what you're talking about, Duck," Gibbs denied quickly.
"...and I couldn't help but hear the endearing manner in which you spoke to him as we were on our way to rescue him from that awful phone booth. Jethro, are you and Anthony involved?"
Gibbs jerked up and out of the chair and turned toward the bay window, roughly pushing aside the partially opened drapes and glaring out at nothing. "We can't be having this conversation."
"And why is that?" The gentle voice was calm but persistent.
"Because there's nothing to talk about," Gibbs gritted.
"Jethro..." the tone now held a slight note of reprimand.
Gibbs spun to face the seated man, crossing his arms defensively over his chest, and leaning a hip back against the windowsill. "What do you expect me to say? What good would it do me to confirm or deny anything to you at this point? What possible difference would it make now? Look at him, Duck. Look at him!" Gibbs pushed away from the sill and stalked closer to the foot of the bed, pointing down at the figure all but hidden under the substantial covering. "He looks like he's about sixteen years old now! I was always older than him before all this happened but, now...now I look like his fucking grandfather!"
Ducky raised both hands in a calming, soothing gesture, pointedly ignoring the unnecessary use of profanity, eyes swiftly moving to sweep the bedridden form before coming back to the angry face of the younger agent. He rose from his seat and advanced toward Gibbs quickly.
"He's changed on the outside, yes, but, Jethro, what about what he still *feels* on the inside?"
"Well, that's probably a lot younger, too!"
"Don't be so obtuse," the medical examiner snapped in annoyance."Have you even taken the time to speak privately with him, to listen to what he has to say, to take any consideration for his feelings? Have you?"
"You don't understand..."
"What's there to understand?" Ducky's voice almost rose above a heated whisper. Almost. The older man took a deep breath to control his rising temper before trying to speak again. "I've known you a very long time, Jethro, and I've never known you to back down from any obstacle, no matter how big or how small, so forgive me for not quite comprehending what I'm witnessing from you right now. Yes, I know you're concerned for his safety and, yes, I know you want to make sure he doesn't fall back into that madman's hands but his mind...ah, Jethro, his mind is still intact and he remembers everything, including his time with Doctor Martinez."
This news came as a huge surprise to the agent. "You've spoken to him about that? What did he say?"
Ducky could see the renewed interest but it certainly wasn't for what he'd hoped it would be for. He sighed again and slanted his eyes back in the direction of the young man buried under the blankets.
"I'm going to go to the other room and try to rest a bit. I suggest you try to open the lines of communication with him yourself." Ducky took a few steps toward the doorway and hesitated, looking back with bleak eyes. "Jethro, if you had any affection at all for him before this...this unfortunate affair, I would hope you'd have the decency to allow him to see that part of you again before it's too late."
"Duck..." the blue eyes were wide with renewed concern, "what do you mean, 'too late'?"
"It means exactly what it means," the medical examiner said matter-of-factly. "His body may never fully recover from what was done to it and, even if it does, his life has been changed forever. You said it yourself: look at him. Have you even considered the possibility that, if he survives this, he could very well be stuck with this body? Just think about it for a moment. He can't return to his job, he can't enjoy the relationships he once had, and he certainly can't be the independent, self-sustaining man he was. He'll have to rely on his 'elders' for everything, at least until the body begins aging again. As a society, Americans covet youth almost above all else but it is a double-edged sword for Anthony. The world, as he knew it, has stopped and reversed but, for the rest of us, life continues unchanged. Jethro, he didn't ask for this nor did he chose to be left with this body but, like it or not, unless we can find someone who may be able to help, it's all he has now."
That being said, the older man wearily turned and left the room, closing the door quietly in his wake. Gibbs stood silently and stared at the closed panel, digesting the solemn words, and fighting with his own conscience, knowing he'd been a fool to keep himself from reacting as he wanted. Turning to look down at the figure cocooned under the blankets, Gibbs walked slowly to the bedside and dropped to one knee, gently pulling the sheet back to expose the youthful face and searching the slumbering features for some sign of the man he'd been falling in love with.
Tony DiNozzo's face was smooth and unlined and, if it wasn't for the slight frowning angle of the dark eyebrows, he would seem like any other teenager taking a nap on a cold, snowy afternoon. Ducky had done a good job of tending to the scrapes and cuts and punctures that flawed assorted areas of the body but the face, itself, had been remarkably clear of injuries, except for a small, darkening bruise low on one edge of the chin. Gibbs leaned close and fought the urge to press his mouth against the tender injury and, instead, contented himself to breathing deeply of the scent he'd recently learned belonged only to this person. It was masked, somewhat, by the astringent odor of antiseptics and ointments but, beneath that, there was Tony. Just Tony.
Bringing a hand up to carefully push a strand of wild hair off the warm forehead, Gibbs held still as DiNozzo suddenly shifted and turned his face into the touch, softly pressing against the palm of the former Marine's hand and sighing quietly. It was as close to nuzzling as Gibbs had ever seen and a flare of affection bloomed brightly within his chest.
"Christ, DiNozzo," he whispered softly. dropping his forehead to rest on the closest blanket-covered arm, "what in the hell am I going to do with you?"
"You can...hold me."
The words were spoken so quietly, Gibbs wasn't, at first, sure he'd actually even heard the request. Raising his head, he let his eyes roam the still-peaceful face but saw no indication his agent was even aware of his presence by the bed. Still, he knew he hadn't imagined the words, so he moved a bit closer.
"What?" He asked calmly and was gratified when the head on the pillow rolled slowly his way and the heavy lids rose to reveal green eyes appearing somewhat clearer.
"I said," the sweet tenor of the youthful voice held a note of teasing that was so purely DiNozzo, it just couldn't be ignored, "hold me."
Gibbs looked into the expectant gaze and swallowed his trepidation, feeling the rise of hesitancy rearing it's ugly head again. "Look, Tony, I really don't think that's a very good idea right now."
A cloud of pain drifted over the youthful anticipation and, after several long moments of careful consideration, the head rolled slightly back in the opposite direction, away from Gibbs and the perceived rejection he'd seen. "Okay."
"Tony..."
"It's okay...Boss" the tired voice assured haltingly."I...understand."
"No, I don't think you do," he growled low in his throat. "I don't know what to do about us and it's eating me up alive. Give me a break here, DiNozzo, this is so far out of my scope of experience, I just don't know how to handle it!"
DiNozzo's head came shifting back and the eyes were serious and calm in their regard, roaming lazily over the older man's face from hairline to chin before resettling on the baby blues he'd grown to know anywhere. "Didn't think...I would ever...see you again. Thought I was," the eyes closed at the return of some sharp memory of what he'd endured and it took a few moments before the unwanted recollection could be pushed away. Licking his dry lips, he tried again. "Thought I was...going to die. Thought you'd...forgotten."
"I could never forget about you," he whispered adamantly and lowered his mouth to DiNozzo's, keeping the pressure light and free of any demands, feeling the immediate response from the lips under his. He pulled back and began peppering the skin with slow, languorous kisses, starting at one corner of the trembling mouth, easing across both suddenly-tearing eyes, nipping and tasting, wandering leisurely down the planes of a smooth cheek, ghosting deliberately over the bruised area of the chin, sliding lazily up the side of the exposed throat, until his path, finally, returned him to the hot, open, waiting mouth. He kissed again, deeper, and tasted the salt of DiNozzo's sorrow and the sweetness of his renewed joy. He eased back and gazed into the stormy-colored eyes. "Never."
DiNozzo's breathing was shallow, ragged, as he carefully tried to work his arms from under the protective covering of the sheet and blanket and comforter, attempting to get his hands on the one person whose memory had sustained him throughout the whole horrible ordeal. The task became close to impossible for awhile, the bedcovering and his own weakened condition hampering his final objective, and he began making small, whimpering sounds of frustration, twisting futilely in the binding covers.
"Easy, easy," Gibbs was soothing, helping, unwrapping the sheet from the struggling limbs and suddenly finding himself drawn roughly into a shaking embrace, pulled down and held fairly securely atop DiNozzo's chest. He didn't try to resist, didn't want to accidentally re-injure or cause further harm, but felt compelled to hold back. He suddenly became aware of DiNozzo's altered voice, murmuring quietly, repeatedly, near his ear.
"You came...for me...you came...for me..."
Gibbs forgot all about holding back and returned the embrace fiercely. This was all about DiNozzo, no matter what he looked like right now and, just as Ducky suggested, he deserved all the reassurance and attention Gibbs could give. Without breaking the tight embrace, Gibbs toed off his shoes and eased onto the bed, careful to keep his bulk and weight away from the slighter, weaker body. He drew DiNozzo close and rolled to his back, bringing the younger man with him until he was nestled under an arm and resting his head upon Gibbs' solid chest.
"Is this okay?" He asked in concern, trying to detect any flinch or recoil from resting so close. "I'm not hurting you, am I?"
There was a soft expelling of breath that could have been interpreted as a laugh. "Believe me...this doesn't...hurt."
They lay together peacefully, enjoying the shared warmth and affection but, in the back of his wandering mind, Gibbs was letting his thoughts travel to more pressing concerns. He snugged the body into the circle of his arms a bit closer and sighed.
"Tony..."
"I don't...remember how...I got here," DiNozzo began, spreading the fingers of one hand over Gibbs' broad chest. "In Idaho...I mean. The last thing I can...clearly recall...is you at...Little Creek." There was a momentary pause as the younger man cleared his throat. "How long...have I been...gone?"
Gone. Well, that was certainly one way to think of it.
Gibbs frowned and pressed his lips to the crown of DiNozzo's head, a little worried how the news would be taken. "Almost four weeks."
DiNozzo's fingers jerked and then tightened fractionally on the fabric of Gibbs' shirt as the number registered. The youthful voice was strained and shaky when the words were finally spoken.
"Why...so long?"
Gibbs gritted his teeth tightly together, hearing the real question being asked. 'What took you so long to find me, Boss?' echoed in that hollow place in his heart and all he could do was give the honest answer.
"We were told you died," he began softly, rubbing a hand idly up and down the tense back, careful to keep the touch light. There were strange marks and bruises on DiNozzo's back now, too. "They said you'd been injected with some biological unknown that was potentially dangerous to the population and they cremated your body...well, someone's body. They sent the ashes to your father."
At this news, a real laugh did escape and, although it erupted as nothing more than a brief huff of air and a slight shaking of the shoulders, it was enough to warm that hollow place in Gibbs' heart and fill it just a bit. "I wish I...could have seen...that. Did he even do...anything with them?"
Gibbs didn't hesitate. This was no time for lies.
"We heard there was a small, private ceremony in Connecticut on the family estate. Afterwards, the ashes were," Gibbs didn't want to use the word he'd been given, so changed it slightly, "deposited on some back property and..."
More laughter followed but it ended abruptly in a pain-filled gasp. Gibbs carefully rolled them both until DiNozzo was flat on his back and he could look down into the younger man's straining face. There was evidence again of tears, spiking the lashes, but Gibbs couldn't tell if they were caused because of some injury or from what he perceived as the humor of the tale. It didn't matter. He didn't want to see DiNozzo's tears ever again.
"Sssshhh," he soothed, dropping his lips back to DiNozzo's warm cheek and tasting the salty moisture, sipping it from the smooth skin, and taking it into his own body. "It's okay, it's okay. I've got you now."
When DiNozzo moved to align his mouth with Gibbs', the joining became different, altered, distinctive, and the whole timbre of the kiss took on an unexplained urgency. That the younger man was unclothed under the covers became instantly obvious as he took hold of one of Gibbs' strong, capable hands and began directing it downward, under the soft, cool sheet and across the expanse of warm, tender skin. He moaned into Gibbs' mouth, the sound blissfully free of all pain but laden richly with want, and the older man moved his lips to the sensitive skin of the exposed neck and throat, paying grateful homage to this living, breathing person in his arms.
Gibbs kissed and sucked and licked, reacquainting himself with the taste, the scent, the feel of the body he'd just started learning before Martinez had interferred with their lives. The form was smaller, with less mass, but the essence of the man was still present, still there under all the obvious differences, still remarkably potent. Gibbs reached to find all the similarities he could, hot mouth now on the hard ridge of the collar bone, tracing a wet, needy path from just below the neckline out toward the shoulder, letting his teeth scrape lightly on the fine texture of the skin.
DiNozzo began to move restlessly, fingers trying to guide, to pilot the questing mouth and hands, moans and pleas falling louder from his lips, body seeking, searching, arching. There was a definate need building but, where the keen mind was still willing, the new body...the younger, frailer, recently-altered body...was just too weak and hurt to continue. As his own hands drifted away from Gibbs' back and shoulders, DiNozzo found he could only let them fall limply to the sheets at his side, palms up and fingers curled slightly. He began to float in a mixture of heady sensations, some good and some bad, and belatedly realized it was all just too much, too intense, too draining.
"Fuck..." he breathed weakly in open disappointment and immediately felt the older man still.
Gibbs was suddenly rising up and pressing a tender kiss to the soft skin next to one of DiNozzo's ears, quietly murmuring an apology. "Christ, Tony...I'm sorry."
"Don't," DiNozzo whispered instantly, wishing he didn't sound so feeble and managing to get one hand to move again. He touched the solid arm where it was draped loosely across his bare belly and turned to press his cheek against the whisker-stubbled flesh. "Want to...feel you...need to...feel you."
"There will be plenty of time for all this later," Gibbs assured and pulled back just enough to look down into the glassy, glazed eyes. He saw a flash of doubt before the green gaze broke and drifted away and he felt a sudden stab of worry. Cupping the bruised chin, he forced the gaze to return and pitched his voice low and soothing. "What's wrong?"
DiNozzo swallowed and returned Gibbs' intense look. "I heard...what Ducky said. I...was awake."
Gibbs cursed silently, knowing he and Ducky should have never held their conversation within earshot of the younger man but quickly tried to put on his best game face and brush it off. He had to force the small smile.
"Hey, what does Ducky really know about live bodies anyway? His specialty is in the morgue and..."
"Don't," DiNozzo spoke again with a bit more heat, voice a little stronger, his eyes glinting with disappointment. "Don't treat me...like a kid...just because I...look like one."
Gibbs regarded the young man quietly and, finally, nodded. Now wasn't the time for duplicity. He rolled them back slowly, gently, into their original positions, with DiNozzo cradled against his chest and held the slighter body close, feeling a small tremor begin to shake the form. Quickly, he reached down, snagged a handful of the hastily discarded covers, and yanked them back up, tucking the soft material around the trembling figure.
"Okay," he agreed, closing his eyes at the sudden rush of emotion. "No lies...not now, not ever."
"Good," DiNozzo smiled as best as he could and pressed against the broader, stronger chest, curling a fist up and tucking it under his chin, eyes closing in pleased satisfaction.
They lay silently for a short while and Gibbs, thinking his bed-partner had fallen asleep again, tried to carefully remove himself from the tender trap, inching himself away bit by bit. The hand that had tucked itself so endearingly under the brused chin was suddenly reaching to grasp a handful of Gibbs' shirt.
"Where are you...going?" The sleepy, muffled voice inquired, a tinge of fear coloring the words.
Gibbs frowned and resettled his head on the pillow, tugging the younger man tighter to his side. "No where, all right? Everything's fine. I was just trying to give you a little more space."
"Got all the space...I'll ever need," came the tired response.
Gibbs closed his eyes at the honest reply, easily hearing the unspoken message, and had to push his own feelings back so they could start discussing more pertinent matters. "Tony, I don't know if I'm going to be able to protect you here. We've got to leave as soon as we can but, Christ, you're in no condition to move."
"I'm ready...whenever you need me...to be ready," DiNozzo's voice was pitched with a bit of anger and he struggled weakly to pull from the other man's embrace. "Just don't let...anyone take me away...again."
"Okay, okay," Gibbs soothed, trying to make his voice and actions reflect a calm he certainly wasn't feeling. "That's not going to happen, I swear. I've got you now and they'll have to go through me to get to you. Understand?"
"No!" The tone was firmer and, unbelievably, DiNozzo managed to slip away, face pale and beaded with a fine sheen of perspiration, eyes wide and wild. "You will *not* sacrifice yourself...for me! You will not...give that bastard...a chance to use you!"
"Tony," Gibbs was getting very concerned, not liking the direction the conversation had taken but absolutely hating the stark, unhealthy pallor creeping across DiNozzo's face, "that's not going to happen. Calm down right now..."
"No!" He continued to resist, even as a flash of pain speared through his gut, and he struggled to raise himself from his prone position on the mattress. "You've got to promise...I've got to hear...you say it!"
"What?" Gibbs was at a loss as to what to do but he knew he had to get DiNozzo to calm down. He couldn't risk grabbing the bandaged wrists and was afraid he'd unintentionally hurt the younger man, so he raised his hands in supplication and eased back, giving the flailing body more room. "What do you want me to say?"
DiNozzo got his arms to support his weight and he stared at his boss, panting at the exertion. "If they come again...if they try to...take me...use your gun on me..."
"Tony!" Gibbs was rolling out of the bed and rising to his feet, blue eyes filled with angry disbelief. He glared down at the trembling form. Watching as the younger man dropped wearily back to the mattress, Gibbs frowned at the determined set of the quivering chin. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists hard at his sides. "Don't even suggest something like that to me! I just got you back and, if you ever say anything like that to me again, I swear to God I'll beat the shit out of you myself!"
DiNozzo was shaking his head from side to side on the pillow but his eyes remained locked on Gibbs. "You don't understand...what he did...to me."
"I don't give a fuck!" Gibbs exploded and returned to the bed, crawling on his knees and reaching to gather the unresisting body back into his embrace, holding a tad too tight and pressing DiNozzo's heated face into the crook of his neck.
"He took...everything..." DiNozzo's persistent voice was muffled against the fabric of Gibbs' shirt. "He didn't...leave anything."
"You're still here!" Gibbs' words were harsh and uncompromising, not willing or wanting to hear anything else. He pushed the compliant form back, holding him roughly by the upper arms, and looked into the pale face. "God damn it, Tony, you're still here!"
DiNozzo's head lolled to one side and his expression twisted into a mixture of pained resignation and disbelief. He moaned softly and turned his glazed, green gaze back toward Gibbs, licking his dry lips and huffing out a short, hard sound.
"Am I?"
"Yes!"
"Gibbs," the voice was much weaker now, "look at me..."
"I can see you just fine," Gibbs snarled back, not wanting to recognize the truth he knew was coming.
"No," DiNozzo was starting to drift but he managed to put one, shaking hand upon Gibbs' heaving chest, "*really*...look at me."
"Tony..." Seeing his lover like this was too much and Gibbs' resolve began to break, "you're going to be just fine, you'll see."
DiNozzo's mouth twisted briefly, fleetingly, into a semblance of a smile but it vanished before it could barely be registered. The hand on Gibbs' chest fisted weakly in the shirt and the eyes filled with tears.
"I'm dying here, Gibbs," he managed in one breath before falling into a brief fit of dry coughing, the hand on Gibbs' shirt going lax and slipping loose to limply fall away. "Martinez...made sure...of that."
Gibbs pulled the sagging body back and held tight, wanting to deny the words, wanting to assure everything would be all right, wanting to believe this was all some horrible nightmare and he'd wake up at any moment. Carefully, he eased the unresisting body back to the mattress and pushed the damp hair from the sweaty forehead, retucking the unresponsive body back under the covers.
"Tony?" He spoke quietly, his concern doubling when the eyes remained closed. "Tony?"
"...'m...here," came the slurred, sluggish whisper.
"I'll go get Ducky," Gibbs began to move away.
"...'m...fine..."
"Like hell you are."
Springing from the bed and traveling rapidly toward the doorway, he pulled back abruptly as it opened before he could even touch the handle. Gibbs immediately recognized McGee and instantly saw the worried, anxious expression the young man carried. Something was wrong.
"Boss..." McGee began but Gibbs cut him off.
"Where's Ducky?" He started to push by but was stopped when his agent reached out and grabbed a handful of his sleeve.
"Downstairs but, Boss, we've got a problem," McGee wasn't letting go, even as Gibbs turned and looked pointedly at the restraining hand on his shirt. McGee shifted nervously but doggedly held on. "The local sheriff is downstairs with a couple of his deputies and they're demanding to see Tony."
Shit. This was not good.
Gibbs nodded and yanked his arm away, reversing the hold and towing McGee into the room, shutting the door behind them. He looked back toward DiNozzo's still form.
"What's Fornell telling them?" He knew they'd all have to provide the same story or the LEO would get suspicious.
McGee swallowed once and nodded, understanding why this was essential. "Just what Ducky alluded to the Harrison's yesterday when you brought him in. He ran away from home, joined some religious cult, and we've been hired to intervene and return him to his distraught family."
"They know we're federal agents?"
"No. Just Fornell," McGee reported. "He made it sound like Tony's family is very wealthy and asked the FBI to help, in case this was really someone's attempt at kidnapping or extortion."
Gibbs was nodding again. "Anything else?"
It was important not to have any gaps and, depending on how sharp the locals were, they still needed to tread very carefully. They just couldn't tell the truth. Anyone examining the teenage-looking man now laying all but unconscious on the bed would have to a seriously question their sanity and would probably take the youth into protective custody.
"They wanted to know where Tony was recovered. Seems they found some guy in a truck out on Route 26, not too far from that phone booth where you found Tony, and he had a single gunshot wound to the head. They say it looks like a homicide. He wasn't a local either and now they're wondering if there could be a connection of some kind between his death and Tony's retrieval."
Gibbs swore under his breath and fleetingly wondered if the dead man was, somehow, connected to everything that had happened and, if he was, who had tracked him down and killed him? And why? And, to make matters even more precarious, could those same people now be looking for DiNozzo? Shit, there were too many variables right now and that always left room for mistakes.
"Okay," Gibbs looked straight at McGee and began pushing him toward the large bed, shoving him into one of the armchairs pulled close to the mattress, "you're going to stay with DiNozzo until I can get Ducky back up here to take a look at him."
"Is he all right?" It was very easy to hear the real concern in the young man's voice and to see it reflected in the uneasy eyes. Hesitantly, he reached out touch DiNozzo but stopped and cast a meaningful look toward his supervisor. "Is it okay if I..."
"Sure," Gibbs asured quickly, gladdened by the young man's precautions, "just keep him quiet, give him some water if he asks, and try to let him know what's happening."
"Will do, Boss," McGee smiled as his hand returned to it's original course, softly ghosting over the damp hair.
Gibbs took one last look at his younger agents, quickly retucked his shirt into his pants, and smoothed a hand through his hair, trying to get into the proper mindset before facing off with the officers below. Just as he opened the door, McGee cleared his throat and called out to him.
"Boss..." he sounded a bit nervous and Gibbs sighed before facing him again.
"What is it, McGee?" It was clear from his tone he was impatient to leave.
"There's just one more thing you should know."
Gibbs waited a few heartbeats and, when nothing else was spoken, he snapped a quiet bark in reprimand. "McGee!"
The young agent shifted and removed his hand from DiNozzo, moving to rest back in the chair, and turned to look over at the grim-faced man at the door. "It's about you."
"What about me?" It was more than evident Gibbs' patience was rapidly waning.
"Um, well, Ducky told the sheriff...that is, he said...well..."
"McGee! Don't make me come over there and hurt you."
McGee swallowed convulsively again, his eyes rounding with surprise. When he spoke again, they words were blurted out in a rush.
"Ducky told the sheriff you were Tony's grandfather."
Gibbs kept his eyes planted firmly on McGee's cowering figure as he straightened his posture, biting back the string of expletives that sprang into his mind. Blanking his face of all expression, he let his eyes travel over the form under the covers, shot one more significant look back at McGee, and turned to leave. As he started to pull the door closed behind him, he was stopped by a soft, muffled voice, coming from the direction of the bed.
"Could you...bring me some...ice cream...Gramps?"
Not bothering to turn back to address the speaker and risk the chance of showing McGee his face, Gibbs pulled the door closed and smiled.
TBC
Author's Chapter Notes:
Gibbs and DiNozzo attempt to reconnect.
Chapter End Notes:
Mild sexual activity. Remember: even though DiNozzo's body has regressed, he still maintains all thoughts, feelings, and experiences of his 'adult' self.