17. chapter seventeen
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| Category | Slash >> Gibbs/DiNozzo |
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| Pairing | Gibbs/DiNozzo |
| Characters | Abby Sciuto, Anthony DiNozzo, Donald Mallard, Jimmy Palmer, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, Original character, Timothy McGee, Ziva David |
| Rating | NC-17 |
| Genre | Angst, Case, Character study, First Time, Hurt/Comfort |
| Added | 28/05/2009 |
| Status | This story is completed |
Chapter Seventeen:
At 8:45 Dr. Anderson sought Gibbs out. “Good morning Gibbs,” he said as he walked into the waiting room, looking fresh and crisp in a beautiful navy blue suit and a pristine lab coat. “The other surgeons and I have just been in to see Tony. I’m very pleased with his progress overnight. The first several hours after surgery are always the most dangerous, so I’d say he’s doing as well, if not better, than can be expected. Unfortunately, you won’t be able to see him at nine. We’re taking some x-rays to see how the sutures in the aorta are holding up, make sure there is no bleeding and to take another look at the lungs. I’m sure you know that he has developed pneumonia. The good news is that he seems to be responding nicely to the new medications that Dr. Pitt prescribed. If they continue to work it shouldn’t become a life threatening issue. We didn’t have any new complications with his kidneys or spleen last night, as we had feared. So that’s promising too. We have ruled out the need to put him under any deeper. As a matter of fact, we are actually pleased to see that he has awakened several times and seems to be tolerating the ventilator alright.”
“That’s good. Dr. Pitt said he would continue to monitor Tony’s lungs; if anyone knows Tony’s troubles there, it’s him. How long is he going to need that damned thing in his mouth?” Gibbs demanded.
“That’s difficult to say. A few more days at the very least, I should think. His body is exhausted from the trauma of the beatings and the effects of surgery. He doesn’t have enough strength to sufficiently breathe on his own. We need to keep his oxygen levels up so that the heart can heal properly. That’s one reason the pneumonia is such a problem. I would guess that Dr. Pitt will have the final say on when it can go. If today goes as well as last night we will probably cut down on his level of sedation tomorrow. We don’t want to risk him becoming too agitated, stressing his heart or pulling out the internal or external stitches, so we need to know that he can successfully understand and retain the information we give him.”
“Doc, thanks for everything you’ve done,” Gibbs said.
“Well we both have the same hope, to see Tony get better. I’ll be back later to check on him and the nurses will call me if there is any change I need to know about sooner,” he said, shaking hands with Gibbs.
After Dr. Anderson left, Gibbs headed outside to make some calls. The first call he made was to Vance.
“Gibbs, how’s DiNozzo?” Vance asked by way of a greeting.
“Holding his own, Leon. The surgery to repair the aorta tear seems to have been successful, but he developed pneumonia so that’s one of their main concerns. He’s floating in and out of consciousness now. That’s why I’m calling. I need to take a couple of personal days. DiNozzo needs someone here he knows and trusts. They say that it’s important that he remain calm and seeing a familiar face helps. Cassie’s on the Lynch case, so I figured it’d be okay with you. I can come back when she’s dug up more to investigate.”
“Of course. Take the whole week. You’ve certainly got enough comp time coming to you. We can always call you if something comes up that you need to deal with. Taking care of one of our own is the most important thing. I’ll rotate your team onto cold cases when Cassie wraps this up. I know she had him in interrogation at seven this morning. Haven’t got a report yet, been tied up in MTAC most of the morning.” Vance paused, knowing what he was going to say next could cause trouble. “Jethro, let her handle it " you just stay there. You’re too close to this; we don’t want any questions asked when we nail this bastard to the wall.”
“We’ll see,” Gibbs answered, knowing that Vance was right but not liking it. Not wanting to fight about it right then, he said, “I’ll let you get back to it. And Leon, thanks.” And that said, he hung up and immediately dialed McGee.
“Agent McGee here.” He said, glad for the distraction. Tim had been sitting at his desk, typing up a report on the investigation and wondering if there was a way to make it look as if he and Ziva had not gone off the reservation.
“Report,” Gibbs snapped, not bothering to identify himself.
“Um, sure thing Boss.” McGee silently wished he didn’t feel the urge to salute every time Gibbs said that. “Let me bring you up to speed. Okay, you know how a week ago you went to New York to work that case? Uh, Sorry Boss, of course, um, I mean, um, not sorry, I mean of course you remember. . . “
“Get on with it,” Gibbs snapped.
“Right, um, so anyway, while you were gone we caught this case. Of course it wasn’t the only case we caught . . . “
“McGee!”
Tim sat up straighter. “Like I was saying, we caught a case about embezzling at the naval base. It seemed there was a problem reconciling purchasing inventories with money being spent. The base had a vendor that was supposedly supplying them with goods they couldn’t account for in the inventory. They had been paying the bills monthly for almost a year before the discrepancy was discovered. By the time they discovered this they had paid out close to a million dollars. So anyway, we got called in. We tracked the payments and discovered that all the money was being kept in a bank in Chevy Chase and withdrawals were being made on a regular basis. Tony decided we should set up surveillance, matching the times money was withdrawn with cameras at the bank.”
“McGee, what does this have to do with DiNozzo ending up half dead in a warehouse?”
“I’m getting to that Boss. I just wanted to read you in. Anyway, we finally got a picture of a teller paying out money from the account. We could tell the guy getting the money was a naval officer from the uniform, but that was all. The problem was there was this guy behind him who was blocking our view of the officer at the counter. We saw the naval officer have a conversation with this guy behind him in line. We got a real good picture of the guy in back and we put out a bolo on the witness, hoping he could give us a description on the officer. Anyway, it turns out that the witness was Lynch. We were able to match him to the picture.”
“So is he our guy McGee?”
“Oh yeah Boss. He folded when Cassie questioned him. He also rolled on the naval officer, an Ensign Matthew Nichols. That was the guy he was meeting with at the bar. He was the real brains. Nichols hatched the whole scam while he was working in purchasing and requisitions at the base. He set up the dummy company and used Lynch to generate the invoices and watch his back when he accessed the bank account that the money was deposited in.”
“Still don’t get how DiNozzo got in this mess, McGee!” Gibbs barked, his patience completely used up.
“Well, we didn’t either at first but Ziva and I came in real early this morning and decided to do a dump on the incoming calls on Tony’s desk phone for Friday. Turns out he got a call from a local LEO late Friday afternoon after we had gone home,” and McGee paused, as if waiting for some show of approval.
“And?” Gibbs demanded.
“We tracked down the LEO and discovered that he had seen a guy fitting the description we had on the bolo go into the warehouse and called it in. Tony must have decided to go check it out.”
“So why the hell did he take a bat to DiNozzo?”
“Lynch is dumb as a rock, Boss. He also has a major crack addiction and is paranoid and irrational. We didn’t get a lot out of him but once he knew he was done, Nichols filled us in. I guess when Tony went to the warehouse and identified himself as NCIS Lynch had a major meltdown and decided we knew about the scam and had been spying on him. He kept pounding on Tony to try and get him to tell what we knew. By the time Nichols got there Tony was in bad shape. He talked Lynch down and then took Tony’s keys and phone. He dumped the car after wiping it down and destroyed the phone. He left Lynch with instructions on how to clean up evidence at the warehouse. Fortunately for us, Lynch was too far gone to follow instructions. That’s why we got the prints.”
When McGee paused there was silence on the other end of the phone. McGee sat nervously, not knowing whether he should say more or just keep quiet. Finally he decided it was best to wait Gibbs out.
Gibbs was stunned by the craziness of the story. Once he could speak he ordered, “I want him crucified McGee. Make sure that he gets charged with attempted murder of a federal officer along with all the rest. Have Cassie talk to legal and see what they can do about Nichols. He just left Tony there to die. No deals McGee! Make sure every i’s dotted and every t’s crossed. No one gets out of this for any reason.”
“On it Boss. Uh, Boss, how’s Tony?”
“He’s a little better today. He wakes up for short periods now.”
“When can we come see him?”
“Give him a few days, McGee. He’s still intubated and can’t speak. He fell asleep in the middle of Abby’s visit this morning.”
“Tell him we miss him Boss.”
“Will do McGee,” and he disconnected.
McGee sighed in relief.
Gibbs looked at the closed phone and then looked at his watch. Twenty five minutes before the visiting hour. He wondered what he could do until then. Gibbs wasn’t used to have much idle time and he didn’t like it. It left him alone to his thoughts and made him feel unproductive. He glanced across the street and considered going for a coffee, but then he remembered the thermos waiting for him upstairs. It was still half full. But that meant it was also half empty. Deciding that this had been a half empty kind of week, he headed across to Starbucks to get some fresh coffee to add to the thermos. Once that was done he had no other choice but to head back up to purgatory.
Ten o’clock rolled around and Gibbs headed in to see Tony, not surprised to find him sleeping. He fell into the routine he had established. Easing into the chair beside the bed that had materialized during the night, he reached out and clasped Tony’s still hand, quietly announced his presence.
“Talked to your doctor this morning, DiNozzo. He said you’re doing better. That’s real good. You just need to keep it up.” As he spoke, he reached out and swept his hand across Tony’s forehead, feeling for a temperature and also allowing himself the pleasure of touching the smooth, warm skin.
Gibbs knew he had awakened even before he saw Tony’s eyes. As he sat murmuring meaningless words, he felt Tony’s fingers come to life, offering gentle pressure on Gibbs’ hand. “Morning DiNozzo,” Gibbs said, aware that Tony would not have registered on any of his earlier words. “Glad to see you back in the land of the living.”
Tony’s eyes opened. Gibbs’ face swam into focus. He rotated his head so that he was looking directly at him. He was frustrated that communication for him was limited to facial expressions and the feeble attempts at gestures his weak arms allowed him. He grasped the watch encircling Gibbs’ wrist, looked down at it and then back up at Gibbs.
“It’s around ten o’clock.”
Tony’s index finger tapped on the face of the watch and Gibbs tried to decipher his question. “Tuesday morning; it’s Tuesday Tony.”
Tony’s eyes widened, and then he nodded, released the watch and slid his hand back into Gibb’s. The loss of time frightened Tony. His last clear thoughts dated back to Friday night. He remembered going to the warehouse, being ambushed, and then finding himself tied to a chair. His only other memories of the last few days revolved around unbearable pain. Tony was uneasy. It seemed to him that there was something important he was forgetting- something tied to a case- something he needed to tell Gibbs. He hated feeling useless and helpless. He thumbed through his memories, as if accessing a rolodex. Then something occurred to him. Nichols, something about the name Nichols, he thought. Who was Nichols? It angered him that he couldn’t think more lucidly.
Gibbs had fallen silent, contenting himself with just gazing absently at Tony for a moment. He felt the pressure on his hand increase. Looking up at Tony’s face, he saw that his eyes had changed expression. They looked darker, and seemed restless. He had a kind of wild expression on his face. Gibbs realized that Tony was becoming agitated.
“Easy, Tony. You need to calm down. Everything’s fine now. You’re going to be okay. The doctors are real pleased with your progress,” he said, trying to sooth Tony.
Tony shook his head.
“Relax Tony. All you need to focus on right now is getting better. Nothing else matters right now,” Gibbs said, mustering up the reassuring voice he usually reserved for soothing frightened children.
He had to let Gibbs know about Nichols but couldn’t figure out how. ‘Don’t be a wuss,’ something in his head said. ‘Don’t let Gibbs down again.’ Maybe if he sat up, Tony thought to himself, and then using every bit of strength left in his body, he tried to lever his body up, using his arms as ballasts. He succeeded in getting his head off the pillow just about the same time alarms began to ring. Several nurses came rushing into the room
“What’s going on?” demanded Nurse Maria, glaring at Gibbs as if this were his fault.
Gibbs found himself elbowed out of the way as the chair was pushed aside and Tony was surrounded by hospital personnel. He couldn’t see what was going on clearly, but one nurse was talking to Tony, assuring him he was alright and another nurse was busy doing something to several of the machines hooked to him. Nurse Maria was preparing a hypo of some kind. Gibbs watched as she plunged the needle into Tony’s arm, and as if in slow motion, the alarms began to ebb, one at a time and the tension slowly drained out of the room.
Once the room was silent again the nurses got busy recording information from the machines, all pointedly ignoring Gibbs. He could see Tony asleep on the bed. He was trying to figure out what to do when Nurse Maria appeared directly in front of him, demanding to know what had happened. Gibbs looked at her tiny body and then her furious expression and instinctually knew he might not win a fight with her.
“I don’t know. He was fine, asking about the time, and then he looked worried and became restless. It looked like he was trying to sit up. Then the alarms went off.”
“Well, his blood pressure skyrocketed, his pulse got dangerously high, and the attempt at sitting up disrupted the ventilator. He was in the process of killing himself! I had to knock him out with a fast acting sedative. Were you talking about something that might have been upsetting to him?” she said accusingly.
“No, just the opposite. I was telling him how pleased the doctors were with his progress and that he just needed to relax and get better,” he answered defensively.
She studied his face, as if checking for the veracity of his claim, and then relaxed a notch. “Well something set him off. Nurse Olson left a note yesterday about him having a mild panic attack the first time he woke up. Since there had been no repetition of that no one gave it much thought. I’ll need to get hold of Dr. Anderson and let him know what happened. We’ll see what he wants to do. Why don’t you go on back to the waiting room. He’s sound asleep right now,” she said, effectively exiling Gibbs and sending him back to the hell that was the lounge.
Gibbs walked back into the waiting room, experiencing his own minor panic attack. Each beep from the alarms had seemed to have punctured a hole in the invisible armor he had kept wrapped around himself since this nightmare had begun. One second Tony had been fine, squeezing his hand and seemingly glad to see him; and the next second, he had been in the throws of a major meltdown, in the process of dying! Gibbs didn’t understand what had happened or why. He could think of only one thing to do. Gibbs reached into his pocket, withdrew his phone, whirled around and head for the hospital’s front doors.
Once outside, Gibbs dialed.
“Dr. Mallard speaking,” Ducky said, over the top of very loud music, as he stood in Abby’s lab having come to check on the results of a test she was running for him.
“Ducky, it’s Gibbs.”
Ducky looked surprised and then alarmed. “Abigail, turn down that music. Is everything all right Jethro?” Ducky exclaimed, starting out loud and then quieting as the music disappeared.
“Would I be calling you if it was?” Gibbs barked. “Tony almost died just now!”
“Good gracious, what happened Jethro?” Ducky asked, fending off Abby and her wings as she tried to press her ear to the receiver as well, having realized that Gibbs was on the phone.
“I was sitting in the room talking to him, and suddenly alarms sounded. The nurse said his pulse and blood pressure rose suddenly and he set off his ventilator somehow,” Gibbs said, experiencing the fright all over again just by describing what had happened.
“What did you say to him, Jethro?” Ducky asked, sounding quite stern. He glared at Abby and held up a finger, indicating that she was to let him talk unmolested for a minute.
“Why does everyone assume it was me? I didn’t say anything out of the ordinary, Ducky. I was telling him that he was doing good and then what day it was " because he asked, “Gibbs added before Ducky could jump on him for that.
“Can you remember anything changing with him, Jethro?” he demanded.
Gibbs closed his eyes, replaying the scene in his mind. “After I told him it was Tuesday, it seemed like he was bothered by something and he started to get restless and then the machines went crazy.”
“It must have been something he was thinking about then.” Ducky paused, while thinking. “If he was processing what day it was, he may well have thought back to the previous days and what had happened to him, Jethro. I would imagine that memory would be enough to produce anxiety in anyone.”
“How do I stop him from thinking about what happened Ducky?” Gibbs asked, running his fingers through his hair absently, causing it to form little spikes on top.
“I don’t think we can. It’s only natural that he will think about it. He will probably dream about also. We just need to find a way to make him understand that he’s safe now. That should help prevent the panic attacks. You need to stay with him. He will need the reassurance and security that the familiar can provide. It may be that he will profit from seeing a therapist when he is physically better.”
“That’ll go over big with him.”
“He will follow your lead in this Jethro. If you order him to go, he will. He doesn’t have to be happy about it, just compliant.”
“You think pretty highly of my influence on Tony.”
“I don’t think it Jethro, I know it. That boy would jump off a cliff if you asked him to.”
“Well, fortunately I’m not likely to,” Gibbs said, brushing off what Ducky had said with a snide remark.
“See that you don’t Jethro. There is more than one way to jump off or be pushed off a cliff.”
Not wanting to deal with that statement, Gibbs brought the conversation to an end. Once done, he headed over to the benches lined along the building and sat. He closed his eyes and let the sun beat down on his face. The tension and sleepless night had begun to catch up to Gibbs, and he slowly started to nod. He was jerked back to wakefulness when he felt someone sit on the bench beside him and quip, “Who let you out of your cage?”
Opening his eyes, he saw Karen Olson smiling brightly at him. She was wearing an outrageous set of scrubs - purple pants with a top that had Tweety Bird and the saying ‘chick power’ emblazed all over it. He thought they matched her personality, sassy and funny at the same time.
“They didn’t let me out as much as they shoved me out,” he answered.
“Ouch. What happened?” she asked.
“I was in visiting Tony when he had some sort of panic attack " and before you ask, I didn’t say anything to cause it,” he huffed.
“I didn’t think you had, Gibbs.”
“Well that makes you a minority of one.”
“Gibbs, he’s bound to have some bad times after what happened to him. You can’t let every set back get to you. I’ve got something I want to show you later, after I’ve started my shift. For now, you need to shake it off and get back up there. I’ve watched him, he’s better off with you there,” and with that, she smiled again, stood, waved her good byes, and headed into the hospital.
Gibbs sat for a few more minutes, thinking about what both she and Ducky had said. They seemed to think that Tony needed him there. He wanted to believe that. He knew that he needed to be there for selfish reasons. He couldn’t relinquish the task of watching and visiting Tony to someone else. Seeing Tony like this had brought out all of his most protective and possessive traits. It had been a long time since he had felt this way; and he had never experienced it for another man before. He wasn’t a novice to having feelings for another man. Over the years there had been plenty of men that Gibbs had found appealing, and a few he had even sought gratification with. But he didn’t kid himself; his attraction to Tony was deeper. It was the kind of thing that could consume him, the way it had with Shannon. That thought scared him, for a few reasons. Tony was his subordinate, his male subordinate. That fact had disaster written all over it. Tony was a habitual flirt - male, female - it didn’t seem to matter. That pressed every one of Gibbs’ jealousy buttons. And lastly, Tony seemed to constantly put himself in danger’s way. And that was what scared him the most. If he gave in to his feelings for Tony, what would happen to him if Tony were to die. Shannon’s and Kelly’s deaths had almost been the end of him. He didn’t think he could survive it again. Gibbs shook himself out of his reveries. There was no reason to even be thinking about this. He had no reason to think that Tony would be interested in him in that way. Holding someone’s hand when you are scared and in pain was not an admission of feelings and desire; it was a human response. Tony needed to know there was someone there for him. That was all.
Gibbs stood, and headed for the doors. He needed to get back up there. He had been gone too long, and he wanted to know what the doctor had to say about Tony’s episode. He tucked his more private thoughts away and rode the elevator back up to the ICU.
At 8:45 Dr. Anderson sought Gibbs out. “Good morning Gibbs,” he said as he walked into the waiting room, looking fresh and crisp in a beautiful navy blue suit and a pristine lab coat. “The other surgeons and I have just been in to see Tony. I’m very pleased with his progress overnight. The first several hours after surgery are always the most dangerous, so I’d say he’s doing as well, if not better, than can be expected. Unfortunately, you won’t be able to see him at nine. We’re taking some x-rays to see how the sutures in the aorta are holding up, make sure there is no bleeding and to take another look at the lungs. I’m sure you know that he has developed pneumonia. The good news is that he seems to be responding nicely to the new medications that Dr. Pitt prescribed. If they continue to work it shouldn’t become a life threatening issue. We didn’t have any new complications with his kidneys or spleen last night, as we had feared. So that’s promising too. We have ruled out the need to put him under any deeper. As a matter of fact, we are actually pleased to see that he has awakened several times and seems to be tolerating the ventilator alright.”
“That’s good. Dr. Pitt said he would continue to monitor Tony’s lungs; if anyone knows Tony’s troubles there, it’s him. How long is he going to need that damned thing in his mouth?” Gibbs demanded.
“That’s difficult to say. A few more days at the very least, I should think. His body is exhausted from the trauma of the beatings and the effects of surgery. He doesn’t have enough strength to sufficiently breathe on his own. We need to keep his oxygen levels up so that the heart can heal properly. That’s one reason the pneumonia is such a problem. I would guess that Dr. Pitt will have the final say on when it can go. If today goes as well as last night we will probably cut down on his level of sedation tomorrow. We don’t want to risk him becoming too agitated, stressing his heart or pulling out the internal or external stitches, so we need to know that he can successfully understand and retain the information we give him.”
“Doc, thanks for everything you’ve done,” Gibbs said.
“Well we both have the same hope, to see Tony get better. I’ll be back later to check on him and the nurses will call me if there is any change I need to know about sooner,” he said, shaking hands with Gibbs.
After Dr. Anderson left, Gibbs headed outside to make some calls. The first call he made was to Vance.
“Gibbs, how’s DiNozzo?” Vance asked by way of a greeting.
“Holding his own, Leon. The surgery to repair the aorta tear seems to have been successful, but he developed pneumonia so that’s one of their main concerns. He’s floating in and out of consciousness now. That’s why I’m calling. I need to take a couple of personal days. DiNozzo needs someone here he knows and trusts. They say that it’s important that he remain calm and seeing a familiar face helps. Cassie’s on the Lynch case, so I figured it’d be okay with you. I can come back when she’s dug up more to investigate.”
“Of course. Take the whole week. You’ve certainly got enough comp time coming to you. We can always call you if something comes up that you need to deal with. Taking care of one of our own is the most important thing. I’ll rotate your team onto cold cases when Cassie wraps this up. I know she had him in interrogation at seven this morning. Haven’t got a report yet, been tied up in MTAC most of the morning.” Vance paused, knowing what he was going to say next could cause trouble. “Jethro, let her handle it " you just stay there. You’re too close to this; we don’t want any questions asked when we nail this bastard to the wall.”
“We’ll see,” Gibbs answered, knowing that Vance was right but not liking it. Not wanting to fight about it right then, he said, “I’ll let you get back to it. And Leon, thanks.” And that said, he hung up and immediately dialed McGee.
“Agent McGee here.” He said, glad for the distraction. Tim had been sitting at his desk, typing up a report on the investigation and wondering if there was a way to make it look as if he and Ziva had not gone off the reservation.
“Report,” Gibbs snapped, not bothering to identify himself.
“Um, sure thing Boss.” McGee silently wished he didn’t feel the urge to salute every time Gibbs said that. “Let me bring you up to speed. Okay, you know how a week ago you went to New York to work that case? Uh, Sorry Boss, of course, um, I mean, um, not sorry, I mean of course you remember. . . “
“Get on with it,” Gibbs snapped.
“Right, um, so anyway, while you were gone we caught this case. Of course it wasn’t the only case we caught . . . “
“McGee!”
Tim sat up straighter. “Like I was saying, we caught a case about embezzling at the naval base. It seemed there was a problem reconciling purchasing inventories with money being spent. The base had a vendor that was supposedly supplying them with goods they couldn’t account for in the inventory. They had been paying the bills monthly for almost a year before the discrepancy was discovered. By the time they discovered this they had paid out close to a million dollars. So anyway, we got called in. We tracked the payments and discovered that all the money was being kept in a bank in Chevy Chase and withdrawals were being made on a regular basis. Tony decided we should set up surveillance, matching the times money was withdrawn with cameras at the bank.”
“McGee, what does this have to do with DiNozzo ending up half dead in a warehouse?”
“I’m getting to that Boss. I just wanted to read you in. Anyway, we finally got a picture of a teller paying out money from the account. We could tell the guy getting the money was a naval officer from the uniform, but that was all. The problem was there was this guy behind him who was blocking our view of the officer at the counter. We saw the naval officer have a conversation with this guy behind him in line. We got a real good picture of the guy in back and we put out a bolo on the witness, hoping he could give us a description on the officer. Anyway, it turns out that the witness was Lynch. We were able to match him to the picture.”
“So is he our guy McGee?”
“Oh yeah Boss. He folded when Cassie questioned him. He also rolled on the naval officer, an Ensign Matthew Nichols. That was the guy he was meeting with at the bar. He was the real brains. Nichols hatched the whole scam while he was working in purchasing and requisitions at the base. He set up the dummy company and used Lynch to generate the invoices and watch his back when he accessed the bank account that the money was deposited in.”
“Still don’t get how DiNozzo got in this mess, McGee!” Gibbs barked, his patience completely used up.
“Well, we didn’t either at first but Ziva and I came in real early this morning and decided to do a dump on the incoming calls on Tony’s desk phone for Friday. Turns out he got a call from a local LEO late Friday afternoon after we had gone home,” and McGee paused, as if waiting for some show of approval.
“And?” Gibbs demanded.
“We tracked down the LEO and discovered that he had seen a guy fitting the description we had on the bolo go into the warehouse and called it in. Tony must have decided to go check it out.”
“So why the hell did he take a bat to DiNozzo?”
“Lynch is dumb as a rock, Boss. He also has a major crack addiction and is paranoid and irrational. We didn’t get a lot out of him but once he knew he was done, Nichols filled us in. I guess when Tony went to the warehouse and identified himself as NCIS Lynch had a major meltdown and decided we knew about the scam and had been spying on him. He kept pounding on Tony to try and get him to tell what we knew. By the time Nichols got there Tony was in bad shape. He talked Lynch down and then took Tony’s keys and phone. He dumped the car after wiping it down and destroyed the phone. He left Lynch with instructions on how to clean up evidence at the warehouse. Fortunately for us, Lynch was too far gone to follow instructions. That’s why we got the prints.”
When McGee paused there was silence on the other end of the phone. McGee sat nervously, not knowing whether he should say more or just keep quiet. Finally he decided it was best to wait Gibbs out.
Gibbs was stunned by the craziness of the story. Once he could speak he ordered, “I want him crucified McGee. Make sure that he gets charged with attempted murder of a federal officer along with all the rest. Have Cassie talk to legal and see what they can do about Nichols. He just left Tony there to die. No deals McGee! Make sure every i’s dotted and every t’s crossed. No one gets out of this for any reason.”
“On it Boss. Uh, Boss, how’s Tony?”
“He’s a little better today. He wakes up for short periods now.”
“When can we come see him?”
“Give him a few days, McGee. He’s still intubated and can’t speak. He fell asleep in the middle of Abby’s visit this morning.”
“Tell him we miss him Boss.”
“Will do McGee,” and he disconnected.
McGee sighed in relief.
Gibbs looked at the closed phone and then looked at his watch. Twenty five minutes before the visiting hour. He wondered what he could do until then. Gibbs wasn’t used to have much idle time and he didn’t like it. It left him alone to his thoughts and made him feel unproductive. He glanced across the street and considered going for a coffee, but then he remembered the thermos waiting for him upstairs. It was still half full. But that meant it was also half empty. Deciding that this had been a half empty kind of week, he headed across to Starbucks to get some fresh coffee to add to the thermos. Once that was done he had no other choice but to head back up to purgatory.
Ten o’clock rolled around and Gibbs headed in to see Tony, not surprised to find him sleeping. He fell into the routine he had established. Easing into the chair beside the bed that had materialized during the night, he reached out and clasped Tony’s still hand, quietly announced his presence.
“Talked to your doctor this morning, DiNozzo. He said you’re doing better. That’s real good. You just need to keep it up.” As he spoke, he reached out and swept his hand across Tony’s forehead, feeling for a temperature and also allowing himself the pleasure of touching the smooth, warm skin.
Gibbs knew he had awakened even before he saw Tony’s eyes. As he sat murmuring meaningless words, he felt Tony’s fingers come to life, offering gentle pressure on Gibbs’ hand. “Morning DiNozzo,” Gibbs said, aware that Tony would not have registered on any of his earlier words. “Glad to see you back in the land of the living.”
Tony’s eyes opened. Gibbs’ face swam into focus. He rotated his head so that he was looking directly at him. He was frustrated that communication for him was limited to facial expressions and the feeble attempts at gestures his weak arms allowed him. He grasped the watch encircling Gibbs’ wrist, looked down at it and then back up at Gibbs.
“It’s around ten o’clock.”
Tony’s index finger tapped on the face of the watch and Gibbs tried to decipher his question. “Tuesday morning; it’s Tuesday Tony.”
Tony’s eyes widened, and then he nodded, released the watch and slid his hand back into Gibb’s. The loss of time frightened Tony. His last clear thoughts dated back to Friday night. He remembered going to the warehouse, being ambushed, and then finding himself tied to a chair. His only other memories of the last few days revolved around unbearable pain. Tony was uneasy. It seemed to him that there was something important he was forgetting- something tied to a case- something he needed to tell Gibbs. He hated feeling useless and helpless. He thumbed through his memories, as if accessing a rolodex. Then something occurred to him. Nichols, something about the name Nichols, he thought. Who was Nichols? It angered him that he couldn’t think more lucidly.
Gibbs had fallen silent, contenting himself with just gazing absently at Tony for a moment. He felt the pressure on his hand increase. Looking up at Tony’s face, he saw that his eyes had changed expression. They looked darker, and seemed restless. He had a kind of wild expression on his face. Gibbs realized that Tony was becoming agitated.
“Easy, Tony. You need to calm down. Everything’s fine now. You’re going to be okay. The doctors are real pleased with your progress,” he said, trying to sooth Tony.
Tony shook his head.
“Relax Tony. All you need to focus on right now is getting better. Nothing else matters right now,” Gibbs said, mustering up the reassuring voice he usually reserved for soothing frightened children.
He had to let Gibbs know about Nichols but couldn’t figure out how. ‘Don’t be a wuss,’ something in his head said. ‘Don’t let Gibbs down again.’ Maybe if he sat up, Tony thought to himself, and then using every bit of strength left in his body, he tried to lever his body up, using his arms as ballasts. He succeeded in getting his head off the pillow just about the same time alarms began to ring. Several nurses came rushing into the room
“What’s going on?” demanded Nurse Maria, glaring at Gibbs as if this were his fault.
Gibbs found himself elbowed out of the way as the chair was pushed aside and Tony was surrounded by hospital personnel. He couldn’t see what was going on clearly, but one nurse was talking to Tony, assuring him he was alright and another nurse was busy doing something to several of the machines hooked to him. Nurse Maria was preparing a hypo of some kind. Gibbs watched as she plunged the needle into Tony’s arm, and as if in slow motion, the alarms began to ebb, one at a time and the tension slowly drained out of the room.
Once the room was silent again the nurses got busy recording information from the machines, all pointedly ignoring Gibbs. He could see Tony asleep on the bed. He was trying to figure out what to do when Nurse Maria appeared directly in front of him, demanding to know what had happened. Gibbs looked at her tiny body and then her furious expression and instinctually knew he might not win a fight with her.
“I don’t know. He was fine, asking about the time, and then he looked worried and became restless. It looked like he was trying to sit up. Then the alarms went off.”
“Well, his blood pressure skyrocketed, his pulse got dangerously high, and the attempt at sitting up disrupted the ventilator. He was in the process of killing himself! I had to knock him out with a fast acting sedative. Were you talking about something that might have been upsetting to him?” she said accusingly.
“No, just the opposite. I was telling him how pleased the doctors were with his progress and that he just needed to relax and get better,” he answered defensively.
She studied his face, as if checking for the veracity of his claim, and then relaxed a notch. “Well something set him off. Nurse Olson left a note yesterday about him having a mild panic attack the first time he woke up. Since there had been no repetition of that no one gave it much thought. I’ll need to get hold of Dr. Anderson and let him know what happened. We’ll see what he wants to do. Why don’t you go on back to the waiting room. He’s sound asleep right now,” she said, effectively exiling Gibbs and sending him back to the hell that was the lounge.
Gibbs walked back into the waiting room, experiencing his own minor panic attack. Each beep from the alarms had seemed to have punctured a hole in the invisible armor he had kept wrapped around himself since this nightmare had begun. One second Tony had been fine, squeezing his hand and seemingly glad to see him; and the next second, he had been in the throws of a major meltdown, in the process of dying! Gibbs didn’t understand what had happened or why. He could think of only one thing to do. Gibbs reached into his pocket, withdrew his phone, whirled around and head for the hospital’s front doors.
Once outside, Gibbs dialed.
“Dr. Mallard speaking,” Ducky said, over the top of very loud music, as he stood in Abby’s lab having come to check on the results of a test she was running for him.
“Ducky, it’s Gibbs.”
Ducky looked surprised and then alarmed. “Abigail, turn down that music. Is everything all right Jethro?” Ducky exclaimed, starting out loud and then quieting as the music disappeared.
“Would I be calling you if it was?” Gibbs barked. “Tony almost died just now!”
“Good gracious, what happened Jethro?” Ducky asked, fending off Abby and her wings as she tried to press her ear to the receiver as well, having realized that Gibbs was on the phone.
“I was sitting in the room talking to him, and suddenly alarms sounded. The nurse said his pulse and blood pressure rose suddenly and he set off his ventilator somehow,” Gibbs said, experiencing the fright all over again just by describing what had happened.
“What did you say to him, Jethro?” Ducky asked, sounding quite stern. He glared at Abby and held up a finger, indicating that she was to let him talk unmolested for a minute.
“Why does everyone assume it was me? I didn’t say anything out of the ordinary, Ducky. I was telling him that he was doing good and then what day it was " because he asked, “Gibbs added before Ducky could jump on him for that.
“Can you remember anything changing with him, Jethro?” he demanded.
Gibbs closed his eyes, replaying the scene in his mind. “After I told him it was Tuesday, it seemed like he was bothered by something and he started to get restless and then the machines went crazy.”
“It must have been something he was thinking about then.” Ducky paused, while thinking. “If he was processing what day it was, he may well have thought back to the previous days and what had happened to him, Jethro. I would imagine that memory would be enough to produce anxiety in anyone.”
“How do I stop him from thinking about what happened Ducky?” Gibbs asked, running his fingers through his hair absently, causing it to form little spikes on top.
“I don’t think we can. It’s only natural that he will think about it. He will probably dream about also. We just need to find a way to make him understand that he’s safe now. That should help prevent the panic attacks. You need to stay with him. He will need the reassurance and security that the familiar can provide. It may be that he will profit from seeing a therapist when he is physically better.”
“That’ll go over big with him.”
“He will follow your lead in this Jethro. If you order him to go, he will. He doesn’t have to be happy about it, just compliant.”
“You think pretty highly of my influence on Tony.”
“I don’t think it Jethro, I know it. That boy would jump off a cliff if you asked him to.”
“Well, fortunately I’m not likely to,” Gibbs said, brushing off what Ducky had said with a snide remark.
“See that you don’t Jethro. There is more than one way to jump off or be pushed off a cliff.”
Not wanting to deal with that statement, Gibbs brought the conversation to an end. Once done, he headed over to the benches lined along the building and sat. He closed his eyes and let the sun beat down on his face. The tension and sleepless night had begun to catch up to Gibbs, and he slowly started to nod. He was jerked back to wakefulness when he felt someone sit on the bench beside him and quip, “Who let you out of your cage?”
Opening his eyes, he saw Karen Olson smiling brightly at him. She was wearing an outrageous set of scrubs - purple pants with a top that had Tweety Bird and the saying ‘chick power’ emblazed all over it. He thought they matched her personality, sassy and funny at the same time.
“They didn’t let me out as much as they shoved me out,” he answered.
“Ouch. What happened?” she asked.
“I was in visiting Tony when he had some sort of panic attack " and before you ask, I didn’t say anything to cause it,” he huffed.
“I didn’t think you had, Gibbs.”
“Well that makes you a minority of one.”
“Gibbs, he’s bound to have some bad times after what happened to him. You can’t let every set back get to you. I’ve got something I want to show you later, after I’ve started my shift. For now, you need to shake it off and get back up there. I’ve watched him, he’s better off with you there,” and with that, she smiled again, stood, waved her good byes, and headed into the hospital.
Gibbs sat for a few more minutes, thinking about what both she and Ducky had said. They seemed to think that Tony needed him there. He wanted to believe that. He knew that he needed to be there for selfish reasons. He couldn’t relinquish the task of watching and visiting Tony to someone else. Seeing Tony like this had brought out all of his most protective and possessive traits. It had been a long time since he had felt this way; and he had never experienced it for another man before. He wasn’t a novice to having feelings for another man. Over the years there had been plenty of men that Gibbs had found appealing, and a few he had even sought gratification with. But he didn’t kid himself; his attraction to Tony was deeper. It was the kind of thing that could consume him, the way it had with Shannon. That thought scared him, for a few reasons. Tony was his subordinate, his male subordinate. That fact had disaster written all over it. Tony was a habitual flirt - male, female - it didn’t seem to matter. That pressed every one of Gibbs’ jealousy buttons. And lastly, Tony seemed to constantly put himself in danger’s way. And that was what scared him the most. If he gave in to his feelings for Tony, what would happen to him if Tony were to die. Shannon’s and Kelly’s deaths had almost been the end of him. He didn’t think he could survive it again. Gibbs shook himself out of his reveries. There was no reason to even be thinking about this. He had no reason to think that Tony would be interested in him in that way. Holding someone’s hand when you are scared and in pain was not an admission of feelings and desire; it was a human response. Tony needed to know there was someone there for him. That was all.
Gibbs stood, and headed for the doors. He needed to get back up there. He had been gone too long, and he wanted to know what the doctor had to say about Tony’s episode. He tucked his more private thoughts away and rode the elevator back up to the ICU.
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