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Chapter Text

Tony DiNozzo lay on his back looking at the ceiling of the NCIS gym. A stain on the roof had caught his attention. He was trying to decide whether it looked more like Australia or Ohio. As he continued to look he wondered if it actually looked more Arizona but, as he didn't have happy memories of that state, he decided he would prefer it to be Ohio. At least it wasn't Hawaii which, despite its Magnum links, was definitely not his favourite place. It was strange, he thought, that there was a stain on the roof, perhaps the rain had got through but the maintenance team were usually pretty hot on repairs. Perhaps he should let the Director know. Who was the Director? The stain wobbled before his eyes and he closed his eyes to try and focus better.

"Tony!" came McGee's voice, "don't close your eyes!"

Tony pondered this request. The Senior Field Agent in him approved the note of authority in Tim's voice. He had come a long way since his Probie days when he had been as green as … green as what? Peas? Lettuce? Broccoli? None of those sounded right. Although Cubby Broccoli had made some great movies, some of the best Bond movies although Tony was also fond of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. So was Tim as green as Chitty Chitty Bang Bang? If he'd had the energy, Tony might have shaken his head to try and work out how his thought processes had linked McGee to a flying car. He didn't think Tim would like Chitty Chitty Bang Bang; he would want something a bit more high-tech.

"Tony!" said McGee again, "keep your eyes open!"

No, thought Tony, McGee was definitely no longer as green as whatever the right green vegetable was and Tony was quite proud of the way Tim was willing to stand up for himself. He wasn't quite so sure, however, that he approved of this tendency to try and micromanage Tony's life. Jeez, he was even trying to control Tony's eye movement! He'd just earned himself a new nickname: McMicroManager although it felt a bit of a mouthful. Not that that ever stopped Tony. He was prepared to put in the legwork and be polysyllabic if needed. Tony paused for a moment to think that Ducky would be proud of him for knowing a polysyllabic word like polysyllabic. He mentally shook himself, somehow that sounded a bit repetitive.

"Tony! Stay awake!"

There was, thought Tony, a thin line between authority and panic and he rather thought that McGee had just crossed that line. Perhaps the Probie hadn't made as much progress as he'd thought but, he reasoned, he might be coming to a false conclusion. After all, Tony didn't know what Tim was worried about; perhaps there was some crisis that he had never encountered before that was sending McGee into a spin. No, thought Tony magnanimously, he would cut the youngster some slack until he had gathered more intel. In the meantime, Tony thought he would re-evaluate the stain on the roof. Except that he couldn't see it anymore because McGee's head was in the way. Tony tried to think of a tactful way of getting Tim to move but was distracted by another voice.

"DiNozzo! Tony!"

That was Gibbs. Tony was puzzled. Gibbs, of course, didn't sound panicked. Hope you're paying attention McStudent, he thought, and there was the undeniable Gibbs air of authority. But, Tony was puzzled because Gibbs called him Tony. Gibbs only called him Tony if he was pleased with him. Tony felt a warm glow wash over him followed by a feeling of discontent. What had he done that made Gibbs pleased with him? He wanted to know so he could do it again. Tony's thought processes engaged lethargically and he remembered that Gibbs sometimes called him Tony when something had gone wrong. Had something gone wrong? Tony felt at a loss for not knowing the correct response. Should he smile because Gibbs was pleased with him or look serious because there was something wrong? His mouth twitched as he tried to reach a compromise.

"Look, his face has gone all misshapen," said McGee, "is he having a stroke?"

Tony tried to frown at Tim. He was trying his best. It wasn't his fault if the Probie wasn't skilled in reading the DiNozzo nuances. It was another area for retraining. He sighed, the work of a Senior Field Agent was never done.

"Tony, lie still," said Gibbs, gently patting his face, "stay with us."

This was all too complicated, thought Tony. He was pretty sure he had been lying still. And he would never leave his team. Although, to be fair, he supposed they didn't know that he had turned down chances to leave them. But today, he decided, showed that his work was not yet done; his co-workers still had a lot to learn. He tried to look steadfast but wasn't sure what that looked like.

"It's happening again," said McGee in something approaching a wail, "his face is all weird."

"I wish I'd had green beans instead of a Brownie," said Ellie.

Tony had been getting the impression that he might not be quite in tune with his co-workers and, for a moment or two, Bishop's statement seemed to confirm that something had become unplugged in his brain. For the first time, it began to occur to him that there might be something strange about lying on the gym floor in the middle of the working day. Worry niggled at edge of his mind but then he heard bewilderment in the voices of Gibbs and McGee.

"What you talking about Bishop?" asked Gibbs.

"Did you get hit too, Ellie?" asked McGee.

Too? thought Tony. Had someone been hit?

Bishop giggled nervously, "It's just that I don't like green beans," she said.

Tony closed his eyes momentarily. Gibbs and McGee didn't notice as their attention was on Bishop.

"And?" asked Tim.

"And I'm now going to associate Brownies with Tony looking … well, you know. And I'd rather associate that with green beans which I hate and never eat than with Brownies which I love."

"Sorry to inconvenience you, Bishop," said Gibbs, "I'll be sure to bring green beans down with us next time."

Bishop was saved from having to reply by the sound of medical help arriving.

"Make a hole," said Palmer briskly, "let Dr Mallard through. Make room, please."

"Oh my," said Ducky standing over Tony and blocking the view of the stain on the ceiling, "what do we have here?" As he waited for a reply, he turned to Jimmy, "Mr Palmer, why don't you make an initial assessment of the situation?"

"Me, Doctor?" asked Palmer.

"Yes, you, Mr Palmer. You are more than qualified and I will be with you every step of the way."

"But, but," stammered Jimmy.

"I will not allow you to make any mistake, Mr Palmer, I assure you. I will be watching you with the eye of an eagle. I sometimes wish I had gone into working at a medical school. I would have enjoyed imparting my knowledge to others. It would have been like passing on the baton of diagnosis and treatment and would have been most rewarding."

"But, but," repeated Jimmy.

"Do not worry, Mr Palmer," said Ducky reassuringly, "I will observe you minutely. There will be nothing which you do which I will not thoroughly assess and monitor. I will not allow you to make even the slightest of errors."

Gibbs intervened as he saw Palmer's increasing despair at the thought of being so closely watched,

"Duck. Time's wasting here. Why don't you and Palmer postpone this discussion and just find out what's wrong with DiNozzo?"

Ducky stood upright. Tony smiled when the stain on the ceiling swung into view once more.

"Quite right, Jethro, the patient is the important thing. Mr Palmer, we will discuss your timidity in dealing with live patients at another time. But, let me tell you, that it is not at all uncommon in young …"

"Duck," said Gibbs more or less patiently, and pointing to the floor, "DiNozzo?"

"Of course," said Ducky, "perhaps you could tell me what happened?"

"We were doing PT," said Gibbs, "McGee and DiNozzo were going one on one …"

"And?" asked Ducky.

"And I knocked him out," said McGee.

"Pardon?" said Ducky.

"McGee knocked DiNozzo out," confirmed Gibbs.

"Tim knocked Tony out?" asked Jimmy in surprise.

"Yes," said McGee a little resentfully.

"Sweetest uppercut I've seen in ages," said Gibbs reflectively, "perfectly timed and executed."

"Tony went straight down," said Bishop, "it was amazing."

"Bravo, Timothy!" said Ducky "Bravo!"

"Course," said Gibbs, "it helped that DiNozzo was distracted."

"By what?" asked Ducky.

Gibbs looked at Ellie pointedly, "I got a bit excited," she admitted sheepishly, "I managed to land a punch on Gibbs and I might have …"

"Shrieked like a little girl," said Gibbs with a half-smile, "Tony looked round to see what was happening and didn't see Tim's fist coming for him."

"Hey, you said it was a good punch," said McGee.

"It was," confirmed Gibbs, "but it was lucky too."

Tony was getting bored with the conversation going on over his head so he tried to get some attention. Unfortunately, his attempted speech came out as a mumble.

"Oh, God," said McGee, forgetting his pride in having felled Tony, "he can't speak. He's got brain damage!"

"Let's not jump to any conclusions," said Ducky, "Anthony, can you watch my finger, please?"

Tony dutifully tried to follow Ducky's finger but was distracted by still trying to work out which state the stain looked most like.

"Where does it hurt?" asked Ducky.

Tony thought for a moment. Until that moment he had been unaware of any pain but, as soon as Ducky asked the question, he realised that his jaw hurt. A lot. He mumbled again and raised a sluggish hand to his face.

"Oh, God, oh God," moaned Tim, "he has got brain damage. What have I done?"

"I don't think we are dealing with anything as sinister as that," said Ducky.

"You don't?" said McGee hopefully.

"He is, understandably, rather dazed and confused but I don't think that is the reason for the less than clear speech."

"You don't?" asked Gibbs.

"No, I think the meeting of Anthony's jaw and Timothy's fist has led the former to be rather swollen."

Gibbs unpicked this, "do you think his jaw's broken?"

Rather to Tony's displeasure, Ducky manipulated the jaw, "I don't believe there is a fracture. I will do an X-ray to be sure but I think there is just swelling." He turned to his patient, "I'm afraid, my boy, that talking will be painful for a couple of days."

Tony decided to ignore the fleeting looks of pleasure which appeared on his teammates' faces and concentrated instead on being hoisted to his feet.

NCISNCIS

A couple of hours later, the team assembled in Autopsy to hear Ducky's findings. Tony was sitting placidly at Ducky's desk, nursing an ice-pack to his face.

"Good news," said Ducky, "there is no fracture."

The team smiled.

"And, as I conjectured before, Anthony will find talking rather difficult for some time."

The smiles didn't fade.

"However," said Ducky. The team came to attention. "However, I have had to give Anthony some painkillers."

The smiles faltered a little.

"But," said Ducky in a cheerful voice, "As you can see they have made him docile rather than manic as has happened in the past.

The smiles strengthened again.

"However," said Ducky. He waited for a moment or two until he was sure he had their full attention, "however. Anthony should not be on his own tonight. I do not think he has a concussion but in his … er … present condition it would not be responsible to leave him unattended."

The team sighed.

"I would volunteer," said Ducky. The smiles grew a little. "But," he continued, "Tonight is my Bridge night so I am otherwise engaged."

"It was you who hit him," said Ellie to McGee.

"By accident," said Tim, "and it was kinda your fault?"

"How?" asked Ellie.

"If you hadn't shrieked Tony wouldn't have looked away."

"I'll do it," said Gibbs unexpectedly.

"You will?" asked McGee, "but it's not your turn, Boss. You did it last time."

"McGee," said Gibbs, "you can do it the next two times."

"OK," said Tim cautiously, "but why?"

"Look at him," said Gibbs, "can't talk, can't stay awake. It'll be the easiest DiNozzo watching ever."

"But," said Tim, realising he'd missed an opportunity.

"Too late," said Gibbs, "it's probably even a rule. Is it OK to take DiNozzo now, Duck?"

"Assuredly, Jethro. Here is some medication and general instructions for his care. Call me if you experience any problems."

"Will do," said Gibbs, "come on, DiNozzo."

Tony looked up from an intent contemplation of his fingers but didn't stand. He managed a goofy, friendly smile and gave a little wave. Gibbs sighed and walked over to his Senior Field Agent. He put a hand under his elbow and drew Tony to his feet,

"Come on, Tony," he said kindly, "let's go home. I'll make you something you can eat through a straw."

Tony gave a cautious smile to show his delight at this unorthodox treat and followed Gibbs out of Autopsy.

Bishop went back to the squad room and Ducky went to deliver the news about Tony to the Director. Tim hesitated for a moment and then went up to Jimmy,

"Uh, Palmer, could I have a word?"

Chapter Text

Later that day, Gibbs was relaxing at home, thinking that this was the best sort of DiNozzo sitting he had ever had to do. Tony was still placid and docile. Talking was an effort so, if he wanted to communicate, he used a writing pad. Or tried to, he was so doped up that the effort of writing was usually too great and he gave up after a couple of words. It turned out that Gibbs was pretty good at working out what Tony needed and he supplied drugs, food, beverages and bathroom breaks at regular intervals; this combined with a fascinated watching of the Western channel, kept Tony in a state of dazed contentment. There was definitely an air of mellow happiness in Casa Gibbs that night.

Gibbs was just thinking about making Tony another chocolate milkshake when Ducky arrived.

"Duck?" said Gibbs, "DiNozzo's fine. I'd have called you."

"Ah," said Ducky, "I am sure you are ministering to Anthony with your customary skill, Jethro. There is another matter I need to inform you of."

"X-rays didn't show anything up, did they?" asked Gibbs suddenly worried that the meticulous doctor had discovered something on a subsequent examination.

"Not Anthony's, no," said Ducky heavily.

"Duck?"

"Timothy spoke to Mr Palmer shortly after you left."

"And?"

"It seems that Anthony's jaw was not the only casualty in the meeting with Timothy's fist."

"Uh?"

"Timothy admitted to Mr Palmer that his fist was rather sore. Mr Palmer examined the appendage and determined that there was no fracture, merely extensive bruising."

"That's good?"

"Indeed. And Mr Palmer was most efficient. He then asked Timothy to describe the level of pain on a scale of 1 to 10."

"And?"

"Timothy admitted to a pain level of 7."

"So?"

"So Mr Palmer administered what he believed would be an appropriate level of pain medication."

"McGee wasn't allergic to the pills, was he?" asked Gibbs in sudden worry.

"No, no, nothing like that," said Ducky.

"Well, thanks for letting me know, Duck," said Gibbs, "I guess I'd better keep McGee out of the field tomorrow."

Ducky continued with his report, "Mr Palmer is accustomed to members of your team underplaying the amount of pain they are experiencing."

"Yes?"

"So, when Timothy admitted to a pain level of 7, he assumed that the level of pain was actually much higher."

Realisation dawned on Gibbs, "but McGee doesn't underplay his pain?"

"No," agreed Ducky, "Timothy is always scrupulously honest and accurate about such matters."

"So?"

"Mr Palmer prescribed medication for a much higher level of pain than was actually being experienced. It is a good lesson for him."

"Is Tim going to be all right?" asked Gibbs.

"He is in no danger," said Ducky, "we just need to wait until the medication has worked its way out of his system. But …"

"But until that happens, he shouldn't be left on his own?" said Gibbs.

"Indeed," said Ducky, "and I …"

"Have your bridge evening," supplied Gibbs.

"I fear so."

"Ok" said Gibbs resignedly, "bring him in. I've already got one doped up sleepy agent, another one won't make much difference."

At that moment McGee burst through the door,

"I couldn't wait any more, Ducky," he said excitedly, "it was boring out there and you'd told me not to touch anything but I wanted to. So I thought I'd better come in before I … Hey, Boss! Have I ever told you how much I like … Oh, there's Tony. Hi, Tony. Your face looks funny. Boss, can I …?"

"Of course," said Ducky backing towards the door, "it seems that Timothy's reaction to the painkillers is entirely different to that of Anthony. He will calm down eventually. Good night, Jethro." And with an unexpected turn of speed, he was gone.

"This is fun," said McGee happily, "can I help you with your boat, Boss? Or we could make some popcorn …" He walked over to the bookshelves and started reading all the titles out loud. Getting bored of that he seized the TV remote control from Tony and began to flip through all the channels. Tony looked confused for a moment but then just watched happily.

Gibbs went to the door in the hope of catching Ducky but he was too late. He sighed and turned back to his guests. Tony was gazing with apparent fascination at a shopping channel which seemed to be running a feature on the joys of decoupage. Gibbs paused to shudder and then prudently re-set the TV to the western: he suspected that Tony was quite suggestible at the moment and didn't want to risk Tony going to work the next day and decorating the MCRT case files with bits of coloured paper. Tony blinked as the cowboys re-appeared and favoured Gibbs with a sweet smile.

Gibbs resisted the temptation to pat Tony on the head and looked around for his other visitor. A noise from the kitchen indicated where Tim had gone so, with a final look to make sure that DiNozzo was settled, Gibbs followed the sound. McGee was opening every cabinet and peering inside.

"What you looking for, Tim?" asked Gibbs.

Tim almost jumped up and down with excitement.

"I thought we could make some popcorn. I was looking for the ingred … ingredie … stuff for making it."

"I don't have any popping corn, McGee," said Gibbs.

"You don't?" said Tim mournfully, "that's sad. How do you watch movies without popcorn?"

"I don't watch that many movies," said Gibbs, "you're getting me confused with DiNozzo."

"Tony!" said Tim, "I've got to go see him," he lowered his voice and said shyly, "He's my friend, you know."

"I know," said Gibbs wearily as he realised his peaceful evening had just disappeared, "why don't you go sit with him. I was going to make him some chocolate milk. Do you want one?"

From Tim's response, this was obviously the best idea that Gibbs had ever had.

"I would love a shake," he said eagerly, "can I help you make it? Can I? Can I? Do you make it real frothy?"

Gibbs suppressed a shudder at the thought of letting the vibrating Tim anywhere near machinery, "No, I'll make it," he said, "you go and sit quietly with Tony."

"OK," said Tim obligingly. He got to the door and turned back, "but could I have coffee flavour? I don't like chocolate much."

Gibbs stared at Tim trying to estimate what adding caffeine to the Tim mix would do. Tim seemed to realise he had committed some sort of social faux pas,

"Please," he added, "sorry, should have said please."

"I don't have any coffee," he lied, "but I think I have some strawberry flavour."

Tim's eyes widened, "Strawberry is the best flavour in the world. Yes, please."

"Go on," said Gibbs, "go and sit down."

Gibbs made the drinks as quickly as possible while keeping an ear out for any noise from the other room. As he put the finishing touches to the shakes, including his own heavily disguised caffeine injection, he realised that the room was quiet. He smiled at the thought that his agents had fallen asleep and then realised that there should at least have been the noise of the TV so he hurried through.

Tony was still staring at the TV but it had been switched off. McGee was sitting behind the TV set and seemed to be trying to take the back off with the poker out of Gibbs' grate.

"McGee!" roared Gibbs, "what are you doing?"

The tone of Gibbs' voice penetrated into Tony's stupor and seemed to trigger an instinctive response. He jumped to his feet, looked round for his backpack and mumbled, "-n- u- x –ss" which Gibbs interpreted as 'On your six, Boss."

"It's all right, Tony," he said, "sit down. Drink your milk. I'm just going to talk to Tim."

"-k –u", came the indistinct reply.

Normally a Gibbs roar directed at McGee would have sent the junior agent in a quivering mess but a drugged up Tim seemed immune to the finer shades of a Gibbs' bellow.

"Hey, Boss," he said happily, "it's no trouble. You don't have to thank me."

Gibbs counted to ten. Quickly, because Tim was still holding the poker and looked ready to use it.

"What you doing, Tim? Tony was watching that movie."

"I know," said McGee obviously delighted to be of help, "but the TV wasn't working."

"What did you do to it?" asked Gibbs suspiciously.

"Nothing," said McGee virtuously.

"It was working fine," said Gibbs.

"No it wasn't," said Tim.

"Yes, it was."

"No, it wasn't," repeated Tim.

Gibbs glanced across at Tony thinking that this conversation sounded like something out of a movie but the movie buff was currently not firing on all cylinders and didn't offer an opinion. Gibbs decided on another approach,

"What was wrong with the TV, Tim?"

"It was only showing the movie in black and white," said Tim triumphantly.

Gibbs counted to five; the poker was still in Tim's hand and, although Gibbs didn't really care if his TV stopped working, it was proving useful as a babysitter for Tony.

"It's an old movie, Tim," he said gently, "it was made in black and white."

"Oh," said Tim. He seemed to consider the implications, "so you don't want me to try and fix it?" He waved the poker aimlessly.

"No," said Gibbs firmly. He walked up to Tim and retrieved the poker. "Here, drink your shake."

He returned the poker to the fireplace and switched the TV back on. Tony's eyes widened a bit as the movie appeared once more and then he winced. Gibbs had turned it back on just as a bar fight broke out and someone got floored by an uppercut to the jaw.

"Mmm," mumbled Tony as he reflexively put his hand to his swollen jaw.

Gibbs once again resisted the temptation to pat Tony on his head but was distracted by the sound of McGee joyfully slurping his drink through the bendy straw which Gibbs had supplied in a moment of benevolence. He turned to glare at Tim, whose brain seemed to have discarded all the useful Gibbs knowledge it had painfully acquired over a number of years. Tim just beamed at his Boss and raised his glass in salute. Unfortunately, he didn't have great control over his hand and the frothy milkshake spilled on to the floor.

"Oops," he said, and looked round for something to mop it up with. His eyes alighted on the rug which lay in front of the fireplace and he scooted over to get it. A cunning look entered his eye and he lifted the rug as if to lower it over the spillage to hide it.

Gibbs didn't bother even counting to three, "Stop," he shouted.

Tony looked up in bewilderment and obediently put his drink down. McGee tried to look innocent and threw the rug around his shoulders and shivered dramatically, "It's cold," he said unconvincingly.

Gibbs shook his head sternly. McGee, aiming at nonchalance, removed the rug from his shoulders and returned it to the fireplace where he smoothed it into place. He looked at Gibbs with big innocent eyes.

"Stay," ordered Gibbs. He went to the kitchen and fetched a cloth which he handed to Tim. McGee canted his head as he looked at the towel trying to weigh up its possibilities.

"Mop that up," ordered Gibbs before McGee's unpredictable inventiveness could provide an alternative action.

Tim jumped up to obey, and promptly tumbled down again as he slipped in his drink. In what had clearly been a good day for Tim, this seemed to be a highlight as he lay on the ground laughing with delight.

As, unusually, he seemed to be between crises, Gibbs indulged himself by counting slowly to ten. Then, giving thanks that McGee seemed not to have hurt himself in his fall, he went and got him a spare set of sweats and steered Tim into the bathroom. There the sternest Gibbs stare finally seemed to penetrate McGee's scrambled synapses and he nodded in a chastened way and started to run himself a bath.

Gibbs breathed deeply and returned to his other guest. Tony had moved over to the spillage and was sorrowfully gazing at the milk pool.

"Not to worry, Tony," said Gibbs calmly, "I'll soon get it cleaned up."

"-ks –ke –o" mumbled Tony.

Gibbs considered this; he thought he had become adept at translating Tony but this baffled him.

"No problem," he replied, deciding that Tony was thanking him for something.

Tony looked puzzled at this. The milk pond reminded him of the stain on the gym roof and he had finally decided that it looked like Ohio.

"Go and sit down and finish your drink," said Gibbs.

Tony went back to his seat and Gibbs picked up his own cooling drink. A few minutes later, Tony muttered,

"-ss-d"

Gibbs wasn't surprised. He had been pressing drinks on to Tony ever since they got home.

"OK," he said, "let's go to the bathroom." He realised it would probably be wise to check on McGee.

Tony shrugged philosophically. He had been trying to say that he had finished the drink but, in his amenable mood, he was ready to go where Gibbs wanted although he was taken by surprise by what Gibbs had to show him in the bathroom.

Gibbs didn't go in for bubble bath but he had recently invested in some of his favoured shampoo which had been on a three for two offer. McGee seemed to have found all three bottles. There were a lot of bubbles.

Gibbs didn't even think about counting. "MCGEE!"

NCISNCIS

Tony surfaced gradually the next morning and took a moment or two to wonder why he was sleeping on Gibbs' couch rather than his bed at home. Then the memories began to trickle in and, through a cotton wool haze he remembered McGee's uppercut, the subsequent contemplation of the stain on the ceiling and then being brought home to Gibbs' house. He smiled cautiously as he remembered the way Gibbs had looked after him and the slightly surreal way in which all had seemed safe and secure.

Tony frowned. Then something had happened to disrupt the happy cocoon. And it had something to do with Tim. Tony looked round and saw Gibbs peacefully asleep in a chair. There was no sign of McGee and there didn't seem to be anything out of place in the living room. Tony shook his head. Those painkillers must have had a side effect after all. He resolved to ask Ducky if they could induce hallucinations and then he shook his head again. What was he thinking? Ask Ducky for a medical opinion? Was he mad?

Tony closed his eyes to sleep once again but heard familiar voices from outside Gibbs' front door.

"I must confess, Mr Palmer, that I am slightly concerned about what we may find today. Timothy was in a very excitable state and I am unsure as to how Jethro will have coped."

"I'm so sorry, Doctor," said Mr Palmer, "I should have realised …"

"Nonsense," said Ducky briskly, "well, perhaps not nonsense, but you have nothing with which to reproach yourself. Well, not much. We all make mistakes and you will be more cautious in the future. I remember …"

"Aren't we going to knock, Doctor?" asked Jimmy.

"No need," said Ducky majestically, "Jethro has an open door policy."

"He does?"

"Well, obviously not in the 'hospitable, all are welcome way' but in the 'can't be bothered to get up and open the door way'. In we go."

Tony opened his eyes and saw Ducky and Jimmy standing by the door of the living room.

"Morning, Duck, Palmer," said Gibbs who had clearly not been asleep after all.

"Good morning, Jethro, Anthony," said Ducky, "and how are we today?" Without waiting for a reply, he went on, "I can see that you are looking much more alert than yesterday, my dear boy. I think we can dispense with the strong painkillers of yesterday and move to a course of over the counter remedies."

"-k" said Tony.

"He said, 'are you sure'?" translated Gibbs.

Tony looked puzzled, pretty sure that wasn't what he said.

"I believe the application of arnica will assist your healing, Anthony," said Ducky. He looked round, "and where is your other patient, Jethro?"

Tony wondered if he was still hallucinating a little as he could have sworn that Gibbs looked a bit shifty.

"Is he in one of the upstairs bedrooms?" asked Ducky.

"He's upstairs," agreed Gibbs.

"Splendid," said Ducky, "I assume he calmed down in the end?"

"After he'd attacked my TV with a poker, ransacked my kitchen, dressed up in my rug and flooded my bathroom," said Gibbs.

"Oh my," said Ducky, "you seem to have had quite a night."

"I need coffee," said Gibbs grimly.

"Mr Palmer," said Ducky, "go and attend to Agent McGee, will you?"

"Of course, Doctor," said Jimmy, happy to get away from Gibbs' brooding stare.

They heard Jimmy's feet going up the stairs. Tony looked at Gibbs and got the impression that there was a shoe about to drop. If he didn't know better, he would have thought that Gibbs looked a bit guilty.

A shocked, "Tim!" confirmed Tony's suspicions.

Ducky and Tony went in the direction of the stairs. Gibbs followed behind reluctantly. Ducky and Tony saw Jimmy pointing to something on the stairs. It was Tim. Who was fast asleep. And handcuffed to the banister.

"Jethro!" said Ducky in outrage, "did you do this?"

"Only way to keep him still," he said with a shrug, "it worked."

"You put your agent in time out?" asked Ducky, "like a toddler?"

Gibbs shrugged again.

"-gee –te –p" mumbled Tony with a good approximation of a laugh.

"What was that, Anthony?" asked Ducky graciously.

"He said it's time for breakfast," announced Gibbs, "who wants some?" and he stalked into the kitchen.

"That's odd," said Jimmy, "I thought Tony said, 'McGee's on the naughty step'."

Tony nodded in approval and put a thumb up but then, sensing breakfast in the offing, followed Gibbs. Jimmy and Ducky looked at each other, looked at the sleeping Tim and nodded. They joined the others in the kitchen. After all, breakfast is the most important meal of the day!