Title: Request for silentdreamer789

Author: tarotgal

Fandom: NCIS

Rating: G

Disclaimer: NCIS and its characters are not mine. I make no money from this.

Summary: Gibbs comes down with a cold but isn't willing to give up some things.

Notes: Written for silentdreamer789. Enjoy!

                A look of recognition passed over Gibbs' face just before he was overcome with the need to sneeze, making him look suddenly dazed. His eyes unfocused and his mouth dropped open. But the rest of him scrambled desperately for a few tissues he had stashed in his back pocket. He pulled them out and brought them to his face just in time. “HAHH-Shahhhh!”

                Tony stood not far in front and cocked his head slightly. “Wow, Boss. That was some sneeze.”

                Gibbs worked the tissues at his nose and then lowered them to give Tony a look that told the man not to bring the subject up again if he wanted to live through the day.

                However, Tony pretended to be oblivious to it. “Coming down with something? Though, from the looks of it, you already came down with it. What've you got? Flu? Winter head cold? Just the sniffle—hey ow!” The smack to the back of his head made him quit rambling, and he massaged the spot while looking confused. Gibbs stood in front of him still, glaring and definitely out of hitting range. Tony turned to see Ziva standing there. “Only Gibbs is allowed to do that to me,” Tony insisted.

                “Sorry,” Ziva apologized. But it took Tony a second to realize she was not apologizing to him but to Gibbs. “He's all yours.”

                “Wha—” Even before Tony could get the word out, he felt a familiar hand glance off the back of his head. Tony grimaced. “What is it, beat on DiNozzo Day?”

                “Ohhh!” came a voice from several desks away, where Tim was booting up his computer. “My turn next?”

                “Forget it, McGee. And just for that, I might not give you all the coffee I went to so much trouble this morning to get—hey!”

                Ziva reached over his shoulder and pulled a coffee out of the cardboard holder. Tony sighed as suddenly McGee was there, on his other side, doing likewise. Gibbs plucked one out next, looking at Tony with eyes that dared the man to object. Tony was left with the last one and took a sip, smiling to himself.

                Gibbs started to walk away but did not get farther than a few paces away. He turned, glaring. “What the hell is this?”

                “Well, I thought since you were sick you could use some tea instead.”

                Gibbs did not break eye contact with Tony as he extended his arm and dropped the full cup into the trashcan beside the nearest desk. The effortless, graceful reaction was then followed by him walking back, taking Tony's coffee from him, and walking past without breaking a stride. Tony sighed and tossed the empty holder into the trashcan, too.

                Tony had just a few minutes to settle down behind his desk before Gibbs was back. “Dead sailor found at the riverbank in old town Occoquan, Virginia.”

                “Boss, given your situation, maybe you should stay here and let the team handle this one? When you were gone we—”

                “There was a reason you had me come back, DiNozzo.” He coughed into his fist a couple of times. “Now let's go.”

                Given the way that Ziva drove, it was usually safer to ride with Gibbs. Today, however, Tony had a feeling it was better to sit shotgun in the van, hands over his eyes, while Tim rode with Gibbs.

                “Gibbs is not doing too well, is he?”

                Tony spread out his fingers, peeking out between them to see Ziva's cold, unmoved expression. “No, he's not.”

                “If he is sick, he should be at home in bed.”

                “You gonna be the one to tell him that?” Tony asked. Just then, Ziva swerved madly and the van tilted to the side, riding on two wheels for a brief moment.

                Her logic seemed to be giving way to sympathy. “I have never seen Gibbs sick before. Injured, yes, but not sick.”

                “It doesn't happen often,” Tony said. “Doesn't happen at all if you ask him.”

                She sped up instead of slowing down around a curve. As they approached the Occoquan bridge, Tony felt his stomach jump right up into his throat and down again. The traffic was heavy, but the town looked deserted in comparison. The old-timey buildings stood tucked away in a little corner, nestled between the gentle river and the highway, which suddenly seemed so out of place. The town was quaint and inviting, but Tony still felt uncomfortable. He hung on for dear life and only released his grip on the door handle when the van stopped and Ziva took the keys out of the ignition.

                It was cold and a little damp out. The ground squished beneath his shoes and the cold wind blew water from the river in their direction. They needed ropes and secure harnesses to get down to the site and investigate. The four agents unloaded their equipment from the van, assisted by the local police. Ziva spoke with the police and Tim interviewed the man who had driven by on his boat and spotted the body. Tony and Gibbs lowered themselves down the muddy bank, shoes slipping, until they reach the spot where the dead body was wedged between earth, rock, and wood. Items of trash had collected in the spot along with him, and Tony leaned back, testing the rope, to snap photos of the scene.

                Gibbs was relatively silent but his eyes roamed about, searching for clues. The man was wearing a uniform, which explained the call to NCIS, but most of the metals and markings that would have helped identify him had been ripped from him, whether by nature or human hands. It was possible he might have identification on him, but they could not yet touch the body.

                After almost over-working the camera's shutter, Tony caught a glimpse of Gibbs through the lens, which made him lower the camera. “Boss?”

                Gibbs had the back of his hand pressed up against the underside of his nose. His mouth hung half-open and his eyes squinted half-shut. “Noh… not now, Din… Dihhhh.” His whole body tightened up and he bent forward with a sneeze. “hahhh-UHSHAHH!” Gibbs lost his footing immediately and his body pulled strangely on the safety cable, first making it go slack then tugging at it when he snapped back. It was only Tony reaching out and grabbing him that kept him from slamming face-first into the mud and dirt of the steep incline leading to the water. “Thanks,” Gibbs muttered, sniffling against his hand. Tony continued his tight grip on the man's arm and held a hand against Gibbs' back until Gibbs found his footing again.

                “You could go home now that you've seen the body,” Tony suggested. “I mean, I know boats are your thing but we really can handle rest of the investigation ourselves.”

                Gibbs seemed to consider this for a moment, and then he shook his head. The conversation was put on hold as Dr. Mallard carefully descended from above. Older and not quite as coordinated, not to mention wearing exactly the wrong shoes for this, Ducky had some trouble getting down to the body, and both Gibbs and Tony offered assistance.

                “Yes,” Ducky said after a minute. “The poor fellow is definitely dead.”

                Gibbs rolled his eyes. While it was in fact the pathologist's job to declare the body dead before it could be touched or moved, they had figured that much out on their own already. “We know that much. Can you give us anything we can work with until we get his… his…” Gibbs made a frustrated grunting noise and pressed his hand to his nose again. Tony, close still, grabbed Gibbs just in case. “HAH-KTChuhhh!”

                Ducky was taken by surprise. “God bless you, Jethro! Now here's something. Did you know that expression most likely derives from Europe in the Middle Ages when they believed one's life and soul were tied to one's breath. The act of blessing was an effort against possible death. Not surprising considering a sneeze can travel over one hundred miles an hour.”

                “Fascinating,” muttered Gibbs, not sounding the least bit fascinated. “Now what about the cause?”

                “Oh any number of things are a possibility, I should think,” Ducky said. “Particulates tickling the membranes of your nose, allergic rhinitis caused by something out here, a rhinovirus otherwise known as the common cold, even just a slight one—”

                “The body, Ducky!” Gibbs said, and the liquidy crackle in his voice, despite his fierce tone, gave more credence to his illness. “What's the cause of death?”

                Ducky nodded. “Oh right. Well a proper examination here is out of the question. I won't know if it's drowning or something more until I get him back to my lab. But I don't see anything off hand to suggest foul play.”

                “Fine.” Gibbs sounded annoyed and angry, which wasn't exactly unlike him, but usually he had an actual reason for it. “Coming up!” he shouted. And his cable began to slowly retract. He followed it up.

                “Me too!”  Tony shouted to the unseen officers manning the scene above.

                Gibbs shot him a look but didn't say anything. Tony was a few feet behind and to the side, but could still hear Gibbs' soft sniffs and throat clears all the way back up.

                “The boater discovered the body around six thirty this morning,” McGee informed them without needing to be asked. “He called the local authorities immediately and stayed on scene to make sure it remained untouched.”

                “One of the business owners said he saw a boat he did not recognize come through and stop beneath the bridge for some time this morning,” Ziva said. “But he didn't see anything being dumped out.”

                “Get a good description of the boat,” Gibbs croaked, and he cleared his throat again, for all the good it had done him already. “And check with everyone else here on the waterfront and over at the dock. Someone else might have seen something. We'll meet you back at the office.” Gibbs gestured towards Tony, who looked a bit surprised.

                “Lots of ground to cover, Boss. Sure you don't want me to—”

                Gibbs shook his head and headed for the car. Halfway to the parking lot, when they were relatively out of sight of the others, Gibbs handed the keys to Tony. Tony was even more surprised by this but did not say anything as he took the keys.

                Gibbs sat down in the passenger seat, buckled up, and immediately crossed his arms over his chest. Tony took it as a sign to put the heat on as soon as the car purred to life. “We passed a gas station with a store back there,” Gibbs stated.

                Tony nodded. He hadn't seen it, since he'd been avoiding looking out of the windows during most of the drive, but there was sure to be a gas station in close proximity to such major roads.

                “Want you to stop there on the way back.”

                At first, Tony thought perhaps Gibbs wanted him to interview the guys at the gas station, in case they had seen something suspicious. They were between the town and the beltway, after all. Maybe the station had a security camera that caught something.

                But then Gibbs coughed and turned, fist raised to his nose and mouth. “hah… hah… hahCHOO! Hah-uh-Chahh! HihChuhhh!” Gibbs opened his glove compartment, rooted around, and withdrew a small Kleenex pack. He brought two tissues to his nose and rubbed hard at his nostrils. “HAHChuhhhh! I've got to pick up some medicine,” he said. He shivered, despite the warm air flowing from the vents.  “And some…”

                “Coffee,” Tony finished the sentence for him.

                Gibbs shot him another look, but his head moved to the side slightly in a sort of shake. Weakly, he whispered, “I think I'd better have tea, actually.” Gibbs closed his eyes, pigs began flying, and Hell immediately froze over.