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Entry tags:
The Eyes Have It, NCIS, gen, 1/1
Title: The Eyes Have It
Fandom: NCIS
Pairing: Gen, Team
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, H/C
Length: 1000 words
Notes: Written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
picfor1000 2012 challenge. My prompt is here -- I used it as very loose inspiration.
"You know what's the suckiest part?" Tony gasped. "Not that there's really a non-sucky--"
"Tony!" Ziva all but carried him the last few steps to the truck. "Can you not be quiet, ever?"
She pushed him into the front seat before he could answer, climbing in after him and shoving him into the middle. The hump seat not having room for his legs sucked, too, but in the overall scheme of toxic fumes working overtime on his stupid damaged-by-the-plague lungs, cramped legs were way down on the list.
"Go," Ziva ordered, which was pretty redundant given that Gibbs had the truck in gear and moving before she even got her door closed. Tony caught a glimpse of McGee as they flew past, Gibbs accelerating at a rate impressive even for him, which meant normal people were gibbering in terror.
"Poor McGeek," Tony wheezed. "All alone--did we leave a trail of breadcrumbs for him?"
"He is a competent agent," Ziva said dryly, wrestling with Tony's seat belt. If Ziva David felt the need for protective measures, Tony decided he'd pass on checking out the speedometer. "I am sure he can find his way back home."
Tony should've answered because, hey, strokes for getting the pop culture reference, but his lungs decided it was time for a stand on how they weren't appreciating the situation. The coughing fit left him shaking and retching, and when he looked up and tried to focus, it didn't work so well.
"Gibbs." Ziva had the tone she generally reserved for live ordinance of the rocket type targeting them. "His lips."
"Two minutes, Ziva," Gibbs answered. "Bethesda knows we're coming; they've got a crash cart waiting." He was off the Beltway and onto Rockville Pike but it didn't feel like he'd slowed any. Tony started to make admiring noises--what DC commuter didn't dream of blasting through all the lights in one go?--but his lungs objected again. "DiNozzo," Gibbs barked, loud enough that Tony could hear him even over the blood fucking pounding in his ears. "You try to talk again and I'll save you the trouble of trying to cough your lungs out and rip 'em free myself."
Tony nodded, hoping it conveyed Got it, Boss, but his lungs, completely unimpressed by the threat, pitched another shitfit. Ziva kept him vertical, but another round like that would put him out for sure.
"Tony," Ziva was saying, low and urgent. "Tony, I see the hospital, keep breathing...."
Tony tried, did his best to ignore the panic that would make everything worse, but he was graying out, nothing much left but the burning in his lungs. The truck jerked twice, seat belt bruising his shoulder as it kept him from slamming into the dash, and they were there, a nurse climbing past Ziva to get an oxygen mask on him and Gibbs half-carrying him to the waiting gurney. Tony should have been mortified, but he was so grateful for the oxygen he couldn't make himself care.
He had to hand it to the Navy medical corps--he was IV'd and stabilized before he even got through the (metaphorical) yes-for-breathing victory dance. Sedated, too, if the not-really-caring-about-having-his-clothes-cut-off-in-front-of-his-boss-and-partner was anything to go by.
And, of course, in isolation.
"Yeah, so the really sucktastic part?" Tony rasped to himself, because, y'know, isolation. "Going through it alone." A monitor beeped, but there was--unsurprisingly--no other answer, so he let the drugs drag him under.
*
Isolation suites at Bethesda didn't come with much besides half-a-million dollars of medical equipment, so Tony was clueless about time when he opened his eyes again. Still: breathing, not suffocating. That was a win. He risked lifting his head off the pillow.
"Score," he murmured when he didn't immediately pass out. "Ready for the Show, DiNozzo."
"If you say so," a familiar voice said, nearly giving Tony a stroke.
"Shit, boss," Tony gasped. "Warn a guy." He dropped his head back, willing his heart rate down out of coronary event range. The figure was gowned and masked, but unmistakeably Gibbs, even before Tony could see the familiar steely gaze.
"You've got visitors, Tony." Gibbs opened the curtain on the glass wall to the rest of ICU. Tony looked up cautiously to see... everyone, Ziva and McGee in scrubs, like they'd showered at the hospital; Ducky and Palmer still in their coveralls. Abby wore her lab coat and waved a sign enthusiastically enough that Tony didn't have a prayer of reading it.
"McGee says you owe him."
Tony snorted; Gibbs shrugged.
"He broke the news to Abby."
"Oh." Tony winced. The mask didn't matter; he could see the wry smile in Gibbs's eyes. "Yeah, I probably do." Tony waved and blew Abby a kiss. She caught it with a smile that almost looked normal. Almost. "How long have they been there?"
"All night." Gibbs leaned against the wall. "Ducky called in a favor."
"Cool." Tony's voice was hoarse, but he could blame that on the plague. If he was lucky, Gibbs would let him get away with it, too. "That's, yeah." He cleared his throat. "Cool."
Gibbs didn't say anything, only watched him with the eyes Tony knew never missed anything. Tony plowed ahead regardless. "Tell them it's okay to go, get some sleep. I'm good."
After a second, Gibbs nodded and turned toward the window, jerking his head. Tony waved one more time, then tipped his head back, closing his eyes and just breathing.
"Boss?"
"DiNozzo."
"You're, uh, still here."
"You got a problem with that?" It was, Tony realized, an actual question, Gibbs watching him steadily, waiting to be sure Tony was getting what he needed.
"Nope."
Gibbs answered with a grunt that Tony translated to All right, then and settled into the bedside chair, his eyes saying he was there for the duration.
Tony went back to enjoying being able to breathe and didn't even try to tell himself he was an idiot for being happy that he wasn't doing it alone.
Fandom: NCIS
Pairing: Gen, Team
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, H/C
Length: 1000 words
Notes: Written for the
picfor1000 2012 challenge. My prompt is here -- I used it as very loose inspiration."You know what's the suckiest part?" Tony gasped. "Not that there's really a non-sucky--"
"Tony!" Ziva all but carried him the last few steps to the truck. "Can you not be quiet, ever?"
She pushed him into the front seat before he could answer, climbing in after him and shoving him into the middle. The hump seat not having room for his legs sucked, too, but in the overall scheme of toxic fumes working overtime on his stupid damaged-by-the-plague lungs, cramped legs were way down on the list.
"Go," Ziva ordered, which was pretty redundant given that Gibbs had the truck in gear and moving before she even got her door closed. Tony caught a glimpse of McGee as they flew past, Gibbs accelerating at a rate impressive even for him, which meant normal people were gibbering in terror.
"Poor McGeek," Tony wheezed. "All alone--did we leave a trail of breadcrumbs for him?"
"He is a competent agent," Ziva said dryly, wrestling with Tony's seat belt. If Ziva David felt the need for protective measures, Tony decided he'd pass on checking out the speedometer. "I am sure he can find his way back home."
Tony should've answered because, hey, strokes for getting the pop culture reference, but his lungs decided it was time for a stand on how they weren't appreciating the situation. The coughing fit left him shaking and retching, and when he looked up and tried to focus, it didn't work so well.
"Gibbs." Ziva had the tone she generally reserved for live ordinance of the rocket type targeting them. "His lips."
"Two minutes, Ziva," Gibbs answered. "Bethesda knows we're coming; they've got a crash cart waiting." He was off the Beltway and onto Rockville Pike but it didn't feel like he'd slowed any. Tony started to make admiring noises--what DC commuter didn't dream of blasting through all the lights in one go?--but his lungs objected again. "DiNozzo," Gibbs barked, loud enough that Tony could hear him even over the blood fucking pounding in his ears. "You try to talk again and I'll save you the trouble of trying to cough your lungs out and rip 'em free myself."
Tony nodded, hoping it conveyed Got it, Boss, but his lungs, completely unimpressed by the threat, pitched another shitfit. Ziva kept him vertical, but another round like that would put him out for sure.
"Tony," Ziva was saying, low and urgent. "Tony, I see the hospital, keep breathing...."
Tony tried, did his best to ignore the panic that would make everything worse, but he was graying out, nothing much left but the burning in his lungs. The truck jerked twice, seat belt bruising his shoulder as it kept him from slamming into the dash, and they were there, a nurse climbing past Ziva to get an oxygen mask on him and Gibbs half-carrying him to the waiting gurney. Tony should have been mortified, but he was so grateful for the oxygen he couldn't make himself care.
He had to hand it to the Navy medical corps--he was IV'd and stabilized before he even got through the (metaphorical) yes-for-breathing victory dance. Sedated, too, if the not-really-caring-about-having-his-clothes-cut-off-in-front-of-his-boss-and-partner was anything to go by.
And, of course, in isolation.
"Yeah, so the really sucktastic part?" Tony rasped to himself, because, y'know, isolation. "Going through it alone." A monitor beeped, but there was--unsurprisingly--no other answer, so he let the drugs drag him under.
*
Isolation suites at Bethesda didn't come with much besides half-a-million dollars of medical equipment, so Tony was clueless about time when he opened his eyes again. Still: breathing, not suffocating. That was a win. He risked lifting his head off the pillow.
"Score," he murmured when he didn't immediately pass out. "Ready for the Show, DiNozzo."
"If you say so," a familiar voice said, nearly giving Tony a stroke.
"Shit, boss," Tony gasped. "Warn a guy." He dropped his head back, willing his heart rate down out of coronary event range. The figure was gowned and masked, but unmistakeably Gibbs, even before Tony could see the familiar steely gaze.
"You've got visitors, Tony." Gibbs opened the curtain on the glass wall to the rest of ICU. Tony looked up cautiously to see... everyone, Ziva and McGee in scrubs, like they'd showered at the hospital; Ducky and Palmer still in their coveralls. Abby wore her lab coat and waved a sign enthusiastically enough that Tony didn't have a prayer of reading it.
"McGee says you owe him."
Tony snorted; Gibbs shrugged.
"He broke the news to Abby."
"Oh." Tony winced. The mask didn't matter; he could see the wry smile in Gibbs's eyes. "Yeah, I probably do." Tony waved and blew Abby a kiss. She caught it with a smile that almost looked normal. Almost. "How long have they been there?"
"All night." Gibbs leaned against the wall. "Ducky called in a favor."
"Cool." Tony's voice was hoarse, but he could blame that on the plague. If he was lucky, Gibbs would let him get away with it, too. "That's, yeah." He cleared his throat. "Cool."
Gibbs didn't say anything, only watched him with the eyes Tony knew never missed anything. Tony plowed ahead regardless. "Tell them it's okay to go, get some sleep. I'm good."
After a second, Gibbs nodded and turned toward the window, jerking his head. Tony waved one more time, then tipped his head back, closing his eyes and just breathing.
"Boss?"
"DiNozzo."
"You're, uh, still here."
"You got a problem with that?" It was, Tony realized, an actual question, Gibbs watching him steadily, waiting to be sure Tony was getting what he needed.
"Nope."
Gibbs answered with a grunt that Tony translated to All right, then and settled into the bedside chair, his eyes saying he was there for the duration.
Tony went back to enjoying being able to breathe and didn't even try to tell himself he was an idiot for being happy that he wasn't doing it alone.