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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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2020-11-05
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The Sense To Run

Summary:

Fandom: NCIS
Pairing: Gibbs/Tony
Rating: FRT - slash, major angst
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money made.
Summary: Tony hates hospitals. Especially the one Gibbs is in.
A/N: Set during the whole Gibbs-in-a-coma arc.

Work Text:

 

The Sense To Run
by Sam/Sam-Tony

 

After slipping through the early morning darkness, the brightly lit lobby assaulted his already depleted body with enough force to restart the bronze gong hammering behind his skull. Shutting his eyes tightly for a moment brought no respite, only brightly sparkling lights in nauseating colors to dance briefly behind his eyes. Giving himself only a moment to acclimate, Tony pushed his already pressed reserves beyond their limits, resolutely crossing the blinding no-man's land.

He was running past the red and he knew it.

And yet, he grimly ignored his body's protests. Ignored the pounding in his head, the exhaustion that threatened to send him face first into the nearest gurney. Ignored everything. Now that he was here, his only goal lay beyond the doors to Trauma One.

After multiple trips from Abby and Madam Director, the on-duty nurse knew enough not to bar his entry. Or maybe it was the grim, last resort look in his eyes as he nodded to her on his way past reception, he wasn't sure.

He didn't particularly care. All he knew was that his eyes felt like half-burned out pits of coal, his face felt like stone and his entire body was screaming for a rest. Too bad it wasn't going to get any. Gibbs was resting enough for the both of them.

He could drop unconscious when everything was all over. When the case was closed. When the team was put back together and Gibbs was once again the one drinking coffee, glaring and ordering their ragtag group of misfits around with an ease that Tony envied. Until then, it was all up to him and he wasn't about to drop the ball. Gibbs wouldn't and so neither would Tony.

Gibbs was alone in his room, the monitors beeping, blipping and otherwise announcing to the world that Leroy Jethro Gibbs was holding on. Those sounds were the only signs of life in the room.

Tony took in the sight of Gunnery Sergeant Leroy Jethro Gibbs lying injured and still - unnaturally still - wrapped in gauze and plastic tubing with a shock that was almost physical.

Gibbs never got sick. This was the man that swore germs were too terrified of him to stick around long enough to make him sick. And until today, Tony had firmly believed that Gibbs was nigh on indestructible. Until today.

Apparently the bomb that did this hadn't agreed.

But until the explosion that had ripped apart his flesh and knocked the nigh on indestructible Leroy Jethro Gibbs unconscious and broken into a coma, taking a good chuck of Tony's rock-steady world with him - Tony had believed.

Pushing himself away from the door, Tony forced his legs to carry him the rest of the way to the very place he didn't want to go. He had been able to put if off, blame his lack of visits on the case, the job, chasing new leads - he *didn't* want to be here. But two feet away from the bed, his need to know, to see for himself that Gibbs was still alive - still breathing - overrode the fear of what he would find.

Tony folded over, all but dropping into the chair already by Gibbs' bed. His arms resting on his knees, it took him a couple of minutes before he could force his eyes up to focus past the metal railings. The first thing he saw was a pale hand; the strong, capable fingers resting lax along the stark white coverlet.

"Hey Boss." Taking the hand in his, Tony forced his eyes higher until they reached the battered and bloodied face. He ignored the desperate ache in his chest, pushing it aside to visually map the familiar, cragged features. "I would say I got here as soon as I could, but...that would be a lie."

His lips almost quirked at that wry admission. Almost.

"I know you're in there." Tony told him, holding onto that hand. "Fighting. Fighting to stay with us. I hope...well, I hope fighting to stay with me. Because I gotta tell ya, between the kids sniping and bickering and the bad guys refusing to just surrender into the loving arms of your friendly NCIS agents, well. Let's just say it's been a really long day."

Even subdued as it was, the false cheer echoed in the silence, followed only by the steady, incessant beeping of the life support.

"We need you back, Gibbs. I - I need...you *back*." Tony stifled the broken sob with the last bit of strength he had left.

Resting his head on the blanket-covered chest, for long moments he wrestled with his emotions, refusing to break down. He didn't have time and Tony was afraid that, this time, Gibbs wouldn't have the strength for both of them. Once more under control, mostly, Tony smiled and released one hand to lightly smack the gauze that covered the short, silver head.

"Turn about's fair play, Boss." He told him, brushing the soft strands back away from his forehead; more just to be able to touch than out of any real need to keep the short strands away. "You *will* *not* die on me, you hear me, Gibbs? I'll be back tomorrow to make sure you listen." Tony leaned forward, his mouth close to Gibbs' ear. "I'm not giving up on you, Jethro so don't you dare give up on me."

One last squeeze of the hand he held and Tony levered himself up from the chair. A quick trip home for a shower, shave and a change of clothes and it was back to the office. There were still leads to track and a terrorist cell to break open. He could pick up a pizza on the way in; Abby would appreciate it even if he wouldn't be able to eat more than a bite or two and keep it down.

Turning resolutely from the bed, Tony left, forcing himself not to look back. Out of the trauma unit, past the disapproving glare of the on-duty nurse and into the gray mist of false dawn.

There was work to do and until Gibbs came back, it was up to Tony DiNozzo as senior field agent to see that it got done.

 

end