donutsweeper (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
donutsweeper) wrote2008-03-06 11:39 pm
donutsweeper) wrote2008-03-06 11:39 pm
The Concussion Check
Title: The Concussion Check
Pairing/Rating/Warning: NCIS fandom, no spoilers, rated G
Word Count: 573
Summary: Gibbs shows a softer side when taking care of a wounded DiNozzo
Beta:unfeathered
Author's note: Written forchatona who wanted some NCIS h/c.
Pairing/Rating/Warning: NCIS fandom, no spoilers, rated G
Word Count: 573
Summary: Gibbs shows a softer side when taking care of a wounded DiNozzo
Beta:
unfeatheredAuthor's note: Written for
chatona who wanted some NCIS h/c.“DiNozzo?” Gibbs kept his voice steady. “Up and at 'em.” Leaning over he grabbed the other man's shoulder and gave a gentle shake. “I don't pay you to sleep.” Mindful of the makeshift bandage, Gibbs ran a knuckle up and down Tony's cheek. “Dinozzo!”
Tony's eyes flew open. He blinked groggily twice before making an unintelligible murmur, his eyes sliding shut again.
Gibbs continued to stroke his cheek, trying to get another reaction. “You gotta wake up now, Tony.”
“Hmm? Wha' s'matter?” His eyes opened again slowly, his face scrunching up in pain.
“It's time for your concussion check.” Gibbs took Tony's chin in his hand, trying to get a better look at him. “You with me?”
“M'good Boss,” Tony replied, with a worrying slur to his words.
“Time for some questions, then.” He already knew Tony had a concussion. Gibbs wasn't sure if he remembered what the standard symptoms to watch out for were, or if it mattered if they appeared out here in the middle of nowhere with nothing he could do about it, but he wasn't the type to sit back and do nothing. So he asked, “Name?”
This time the pause before the answer was less noticeable, “Anthony DiNozzo.”
“What's today's date?”
But there was no denying the panic on Tony's face as he bit his lip, trying to concentrate. “Um, I dunno.... What... where?” He squinted, trying to focus on the trees and rocks directly behind Gibbs.
“We were following Lieutenant Carmichael...” Gibbs began, just as he had for the last two concussion checks.
“Carmichael...” Tony parroted.
“The forger.” Gibbs paused, but when Tony didn't speak again he continued, “We suspected he was meeting his contacts to hand off the fake IDs...”
“Right. I remem'er now. He led us on a car chase to the middle of nowhere.” He groaned and brought a hand up to his head. “How long's it been since the gun fight?”
“Seven hours.” Gibbs let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Tony remembered the gun fight; that was good. Hell, that was great. No matter how Gibbs had prompted him before Tony hadn’t been able to remember anything that happened after smashing his head on the windshield when the car was run off the road and crashed into the ditch. Somehow Tony had managed to stay coherent enough to lay down cover fire while Gibbs killed the people firing at them, but he’d passed out as soon as the shooting stopped and the danger had passed.
“Then, it's Tuesday?” It was definitely a question, not a statement, but Gibbs didn't care.
“Yep.” He reached over to reposition the jackets over Tony. “You still cold?”
“Quit bein’ a mother hen. 'M fine,” but he shifted closer, pressing up against Gibbs’s side for warmth.
“Oh yeah, just fine. You’ve only bled on me and passed out on me and thrown up on me- twice.” Gibbs moved his arm so it would be easier for Tony to lay his head against his chest. “I’ll wake you in another two hours, by then it should be light enough for us to follow the road out of the hills and back to the highway. It shouldn’t be more than a half a day’s walk, maybe less if we get in range of a cell phone tower before that.”
“Lookin’ forward to it already, Boss.”
“I know.” Gibbs sighed, pulling Tony closer. “Now get some sleep.”
Tony's eyes flew open. He blinked groggily twice before making an unintelligible murmur, his eyes sliding shut again.
Gibbs continued to stroke his cheek, trying to get another reaction. “You gotta wake up now, Tony.”
“Hmm? Wha' s'matter?” His eyes opened again slowly, his face scrunching up in pain.
“It's time for your concussion check.” Gibbs took Tony's chin in his hand, trying to get a better look at him. “You with me?”
“M'good Boss,” Tony replied, with a worrying slur to his words.
“Time for some questions, then.” He already knew Tony had a concussion. Gibbs wasn't sure if he remembered what the standard symptoms to watch out for were, or if it mattered if they appeared out here in the middle of nowhere with nothing he could do about it, but he wasn't the type to sit back and do nothing. So he asked, “Name?”
This time the pause before the answer was less noticeable, “Anthony DiNozzo.”
“What's today's date?”
But there was no denying the panic on Tony's face as he bit his lip, trying to concentrate. “Um, I dunno.... What... where?” He squinted, trying to focus on the trees and rocks directly behind Gibbs.
“We were following Lieutenant Carmichael...” Gibbs began, just as he had for the last two concussion checks.
“Carmichael...” Tony parroted.
“The forger.” Gibbs paused, but when Tony didn't speak again he continued, “We suspected he was meeting his contacts to hand off the fake IDs...”
“Right. I remem'er now. He led us on a car chase to the middle of nowhere.” He groaned and brought a hand up to his head. “How long's it been since the gun fight?”
“Seven hours.” Gibbs let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Tony remembered the gun fight; that was good. Hell, that was great. No matter how Gibbs had prompted him before Tony hadn’t been able to remember anything that happened after smashing his head on the windshield when the car was run off the road and crashed into the ditch. Somehow Tony had managed to stay coherent enough to lay down cover fire while Gibbs killed the people firing at them, but he’d passed out as soon as the shooting stopped and the danger had passed.
“Then, it's Tuesday?” It was definitely a question, not a statement, but Gibbs didn't care.
“Yep.” He reached over to reposition the jackets over Tony. “You still cold?”
“Quit bein’ a mother hen. 'M fine,” but he shifted closer, pressing up against Gibbs’s side for warmth.
“Oh yeah, just fine. You’ve only bled on me and passed out on me and thrown up on me- twice.” Gibbs moved his arm so it would be easier for Tony to lay his head against his chest. “I’ll wake you in another two hours, by then it should be light enough for us to follow the road out of the hills and back to the highway. It shouldn’t be more than a half a day’s walk, maybe less if we get in range of a cell phone tower before that.”
“Lookin’ forward to it already, Boss.”
“I know.” Gibbs sighed, pulling Tony closer. “Now get some sleep.”