A/N: A bit of a delayed update, which I apologise for, but I've had to do a lot of homework in the past few weeks. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and appreciate any reviews!

One Big Family

The pain in his head, the deep throbbing ringing within his skull, was almost unbearable. Every muscle in his body ached, doing no good other than to remove the vaguely fuzzy feeling in his mind. Just lying there, silent, he took a few moments to remember what had happened to him. A majority of his memory was taken up with images of the man, and the dark room in which he’d been held for what had seemed like forever. Smaller sections of his mind recalled his rescue, of his friends as they’d rushed in through the overwhelming darkness.

And then he remembered Kate.

The memory of their talk, of her comforting words, even if they really were just a result of his broken state, left a bittersweet taste on his tongue. The sound of her voice in his ears had calmed him more than any of his rational thinking had ever managed; yet they had also brought with them the sadness that had tinged his soul ever since the day she’d died. He wasn’t a religious man; God had never really held any meaning to him, especially not after the many, horrific, crimes he had witnessed in his time as a cop and then later as an NCIS Agent, but now he found himself hoping, no, praying that the woman he had considered a sister had made her way to the pearly gates, even if they didn’t exist in his own mind.

She’d deserved that much.

Sighing inwardly to himself, he realised that he couldn’t just lie there all day, and soon he’d have to open his eyes and face the music, so to speak. He could already imagine the reprimanding he would receive from Gibbs; he was, after all, an NCIS Special Agent, and yet he’d still managed to get himself abducted on the way home from work.

It wasn’t the first time.

Why was that? Was it something he’d done? What on earth was so bad that he had to suffer so much? Kate dying, catching the plague, being locked in a metal container… the list just went on. Sometimes it felt like his life was going around and around in a cruel circle, repeating every punishment he received like a broken record that nobody had bothered to change. Even the criminals he fought every day seemed to get off lighter in the end. In his entire career at NCIS, he’d ended up in the hospital so many times that he’d even had to attend a physical test to see whether he could actually be kept on.

Fortunately, he’d not been too bad, and even if the results had said otherwise, Gibbs had promised that he would never let his Senior Field Agent lose his job. Hell, scuttlebug had it that the bossman had marched right up to the Director’s office and threatened to quit if they found him unfit for work.

The problem with rumours, however, was that you never knew if they were true or not.

Still, the thought that Gibbs may have done something like that lessened the pain he felt whenever a cutting remark was sent his way, or when he was reprimanded for what he considered a probie mistake. Whenever he imagined his boss storming up the stairs to make his voice heard, he felt that, for once in his miserable life, somebody cared for him.

Sighing again, this time out loud, he ignored the screaming protest in his head and forced his eyes open, wincing at the sharpness of the hospital lighting. At first, he just lay there, staring at the tiled ceiling, allowing his eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness, but soon he began to acknowledge is surroundings. Attached to his arm was an IV drip, and to his left he could hear the heart monitor beeping in time with his heartbeat. The hospital gown was, as ever, extremely uncomfortable, and so was the bed in which he lay, but it wasn’t that which grabbed his attention.

On his right-hand side, with his eyes closed, sat Gibbs. Whether he wasn’t awake yet, or simply waiting for his agent to get his bearings, he made not a move as the younger man struggled upright and twisted his body slightly, wincing as a now-familiar burst of pain shot through his body. Inadvertently, he let out a small cry of pain.

“Don’t strain yourself, DiNozzo.”

The older, grey-haired man spoke softly, but the younger still paid heed. Relaxing all of his muscles, he slipped into a vaguely upright position, as his boss watched with mildly amused eyes.

“Boss…” He began, but stopped as he received a sharp, yet not overly painful (at least not in comparison to all of the other pain he was feeling) slap to the back of his head. Pausing a moment, he commented mildly, “shouldn’t do that to a man with a concussion, Boss. Could cause damage.” The ex-marine snorted.

“Your brain’s already beyond repair.” He feigned a look of hurt, before smiling softly. Some things never changed, and his boss was one of life’s constants.

“How bad is it?” He knew the question was pointless; Gibbs was brilliant at hiding emotions, but Tony had always be an expert at reading him, and he knew from the expression on his boss’ face that none of the damage was irreparable.

Didn’t stop it from hurting like hell, though.

“A few broken bones, some internal bleeding, severe dehydration and a concussion.” The response was short and sharp. Gibbs stared at the younger man, before sighing. Tony had never seen him look so tired.

“What the hell happened, DiNozzo?”

He looked down; feeling an inexplicable guilt for all of the worry the team must have been through. Not for the first time in his career at NCIS, he completely ignored Gibbs.

“How long was I gone for?”

“Two days, roughly 43 hours.” Tony looked shocked, before raising an eyebrow.

“You kept count? Geez boss, never thought you cared.” He grinned at the older man, and winced as he received another, slightly more painful slap to the head. Gibbs rolled his eyes, but frowned as the younger man stifled a yawn.

“Rest, DiNozzo.” Tony sank back into his uncomfortable hospital bed, eyes closing heavily, as though weighed down by lead. In a matter of moments, he was in a deep sleep, the only indication that he was still in fact alive being the regular beeping of the heart monitor, and the faint rise and fall of his chest.

--

Gibbs marched into the bullpen, startling the remainder of his team, who were working intently on the case at hand. Although they had found Tony and there was evidence that David Jones had been in the house, it seemed that he’d been tipped off that they were coming, albeit too late. He had left the house in a rush leaving instructions, from what one of his goons who was now in one of their interrogation rooms had told them, for them to finish him off.

Painfully.

Fortunately, thanks to a combination of booze and some pretty ladies (prostitutes, as they now knew), this order hadn’t been obeyed until it was too late, and before they’d known it, the NCIS were knocking at their door.

Or, more accurately, pounding it down.

The goons were going to be spending a long time in jail, but that wasn’t enough. They needed David Jones, the bastard who’d hurt Tony in the first place. It had been 11 hours since they’d found their agent, and still there was no trace of the perpetrator. The fact that Gibbs had known in his gut that the man was involved only made him all the more insufferable.

“David! Have you traced his car yet?” He demanded as he marched past her desk, with what seemed to be his sixth or seventh coffee of the day clutched in his hand.

“He’s disappeared… very much like a ghoul.”

“No excuses!”

“Yes sir…” He stormed up to the Director’s office, seemingly forgetting that McGee was even in the room. Waiting a few minutes until he was sure the coast was clear, he spoke up.

“Ziva?”

“Yes McGee?” She looked up from her computer screen momentarily, her brow furrowed as she tried to concentrate on her job.

“Uh…”

“Spit it out.” She was impatient, as they all were at the lack of progress, and she didn’t appreciate the delay.

“Uh, it’s ‘ghost', not ‘ghoul'.”

--

In the spacious room that was the director’s office, Gibbs sat impatiently in one corner, waiting for his boss to finish her conservation with a Navy Captain about a corrupt officer within his ranks. After what felt like forever, she closed the discussion and turned to face him.

“How’s Agent DiNozzo?” She enquired.

“Fine.” She sighed.

“It’s not right. Our Agent’s put themselves in harms way all day. They should at least be allowed some peace at the end of work hours.” He said nothing in response, but she saw him nod faintly in the corner of her eye.

“I want guards at his door, Jen. We don’t know if that bastard’ll come back to finish him off.”

“Do we know why he attacked DiNozzo?” She enquired. It was something that had been bothering her for a while. After all, the case in which his name had been brought up was now closed. Or, at least, had been until he’d made his move.

“He knew I’d come after him.” She chuckled quietly.

“Your reputation precedes you, Jethro.” She commented mildly. “Who’s with him right now?”

“Abby. I gave her a break from the lab work. She been run ragged, and she’s hardly working at her strongest with DiNozzo in the hospital.” The red-haired woman nodded. She knew how much Abby cared for her friends. Apparently (this she’d heard from Ziva) Abby considered the team as one big family. Sometimes, she would just sit and wonder what her part in it all was. She gave the man before her a long, level look.

“Go, Jethro. Ziva and McGee will work on their own. Go back to the hospital, I’m sure Abby will be grateful for your company.” He looked at her, perhaps noticing the exhausted look in her eyes. Saying nothing, he stood up and made his way out of the door. It wasn’t until he was gone that she noticed he’d left his coffee on her desk.

He’d always known what she needed.

A/N: Well, there it is! I hope you enjoyed, and I intend to update soon. Until then, however... :)

Please read and review!