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Concussion Protocol

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“Whoa, there,” said McGee, catching Torres’s elbow, “you’re going to the EMTs.”

“What?” the other man said. “He didn’t hit me that hard.”

“Doesn’t matter. You take a hit to the head, you get it checked out. Gibbs’s rules.”

“I’m fine,” Torres insisted.

McGee snorted. “I’ve heard that before. You get hit, that means you get checked out and you spend the night at Gibbs’s. No exceptions.”

“At Gibbs’s? No way! I’m—”

“Say ‘fine’ and the concussion checks are every half-hour,” said Gibbs. “McGee, get his go-bag.”

“Yes, boss,” McGee said, cheerfully.

“Torres, with me.”

He sighed. “Yes, boss.”

THE END