26. chapter twenty-six
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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 Twenty-Six:
Gibbs stood watching Tony sleep for a long time. He wondered when this had become his favorite hobby, even the boat paled in comparison. Tony’s face became vulnerable and strangely childlike in sleep. Gibbs knew he could look at it over and over again and never grow weary of the sight. Finally his tired knees and back got the better of him, and he tore his eyes away and eased himself down in the chair, glad that it was at least padded.
Gibbs picked the crossword puzzle book up off the floor from where it had fallen when he had exploded at Tony. Bringing it back up to his lap he thought about what had just happened. The pain and confusion that had shone through the tears in Tony’s eyes scared him. Looking back over the day Gibbs realized that Tony had been building to that moment all day long " longer actually when he really stopped to think about it. Yesterday Tony had made that weird, self loathing apology and then last night he had lied to Gibbs when he said he didn’t remember the nightmare. Today, even though he looked exhausted, the mere suggestion that he take a nap had sent Tony into a frenzy of side stepping and avoidance. Gibbs suspected the nightmares had a lot to do with Tony’s behavior today, but he knew they were a symptom not the ailment. Gibbs wasn’t sure what was at the root of Tony’s problem but he understood it had left Tony with a distorted self image. Eventually it was going to need to be dealt with but Gibbs knew that helping Tony’s body to heal had to come first. Gibbs looked back down at the crossword and smiled. Well, he’d always been good at puzzles he told himself, appreciating the irony.
There was less coming and going by medical personnel on the new floor. Gibbs suspected this was due to more patients and less help, rather than any radical improvement on Tony’s part, and he was glad that he was there to keep a closer eye on Tony. As the hours dragged by Gibbs had gotten restless. He’d plugged in the CD player and listened to Miles Davis again while he finished two more crosswords. At one point he had found himself wondering around the room, rereading the short missives from Tony’s well wishers. Earlier he had given in to impulse and had dragged Bert off the windowsill and placed him next to Tony, amused when Tony’s arm had wrapped around the ugly stuffed hippo, producing a quiet fart. Finally, wanting something different to do, he sat back down and pulled out the book on motorcycle maintenance Ducky had for some reason packed for him. He looked it over "The Zen and Art of Motorcycle Maintenance " and wondered what in the hell it was, and why Ducky had sent it.
After reading a few chapters, Gibbs realized that Ducky had pulled a fast one on him. The book wasn’t really about motorcycles, although they figured prominently in it. It was a statement of philosophy, developed on a cross country bike trip the author had taken with his son. Despite that, Gibbs found himself getting hooked. He liked the author’s point of view. Pirsig, the author, was trying to show his son how the analytical and the intuitive aspects of a person needed to be combined; that no one could fully understand other people and the world until they could do that. That understanding was the ‘Zen.’ Gibbs liked that idea. He had always used his gut to steer his investigations " the intuitive and the intellectual. That was his problem with Tony right now he suddenly realized. The intuitive was screaming loudly, but Tony wasn’t giving him the information the analytical part of his brain needed to understand exactly what was going on. Gibbs also liked the way Pirsig used conversations between the father and son about taking care of the motorcycle to illustrate his points. It made the book interesting and kept it from sounding didactic. It was really the original ‘Philosophy for Dummies’, Gibbs thought with amusement, proud of himself for making a popular culture reference.
He was about a third of the way through the book when Tony started to stir. Knowing that this could be the onset of another nightmare, Gibbs got up and took Tony’s hand in his own. In a voice which he hoped was loud enough to cut through Tony’s dreams, but not loud enough to wake him, he assured Tony that he was okay and that he was just dreaming. He promised that nothing could really get at Tony, he was just asleep. It seemed to help. Tony tossed a couple more times, but then settled back down. Gibbs wished he knew what the dreams were about; it was hard to guess at what the right words of comfort were. As he looked down at Tony, thinking, he flashed on something the narrator in the book had said to his son after one stop to fix the bike. He’d said, “The solutions all are simple"after you have arrived at them. But they’re simple only when you know already what they are.” Gibbs chuckled quietly, amused by the truth of that statement.
Tony had a couple more shaky moments during the night, but each time Gibbs had kept him from getting pulled completely into the dream. By the time light filtered into the room from the window, Gibbs was exhausted, but feeling good. He’d gladly run on a couple of sleepless nights if it meant Tony slept soundly. He could always catch a nap or two during the day, he told himself. Now that Tony was in a regular room there would be daytime visitors, and Gibbs could quit being on guard twenty four hours a day. He closed the book, carefully marking his place, and stood, needing to move.
Tony woke not long after that. “Boss?” was his first word upon waking. Gibbs thought smugly that he could get used to hearing that every morning and then chided himself for his own presumptuousness. He was aware that this was an artificial environment and things might be quite different once Tony was out of the hospital.
“Morning, Tony. Sleep well?” he asked.
“Yeah,” said Tony, managing to sound relieved and puzzled all at once. “Wonder what the morning routine will be on this floor?” he asked, more to have something to say than to express real curiosity. When his hand brushed up against something he smiled slightly when he looked down and saw Bert. He looked over at Gibbs with a questioning expression.
Gibbs watched this, and was about to say something but stopped because Tony had started a round of coughing.
“Getting” coughing, “sick of” more coughing, “away soon.”
“Give it time, Tony. It will.” Gibbs was getting good at interpreting Tony’s coughed rants, having heard several yesterday, and he reached over to wipe at Tony’s face with the tissue he’d picked up.
Coughing, coughing, “embarrassing” coughing, “big baby” coughing “imposition” coughing.
“Shut up DiNozzo, you’re making it worse by talking. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. No one thinks you’re a baby, and you certainly aren’t an imposition on me. I don’t do anything I don’t want to, you know that.” Gibbs growled as he pounded on Tony’s back, helping to loosen the phlegm.
A respiratory therapist showed up in time to witness the last of the coughing. Taking over for Gibbs and administering advice on how to breathe through coughing fits, the therapist worked on setting Tony to rights. More hospital personnel appeared during this, and before Gibbs knew it Tony had been bathed, fed, examined, and ordered to rest.
“I don’t know about you Tony, but I’m tired just from watching all that,” Gibbs joked once the room had cleared.
Tony gave a small laugh and then asked, “Did you say yesterday that Ziva and McGeek were coming today?”
“Yep, McGee’s been biting at the bit for the last two days. Figured it could wait until you were able to talk back.”
“That’s good.” Tony lapsed back into silence for a minute, chewing on his lower lip as he though about something. Then he said, “Hey Boss, you don’t need to stay if you don’t want to. No need to worry. I’m a lot better and I know you probably want to do whatever it is you do on the weekends. I can entertain myself.”
“You trying to get rid of me? You better, and entertaining yourself, is what I’m worried about DiNozzo.” Gibbs said, trying to turn the conversation into a joke, knowing full well that Tony wasn’t well enough to cause anyone any trouble.
“Boss, you’ve got to be getting tired with all of this, I know I am. I don’t want to you to think of me as an obligation,” Tony said, his voice serious and honest.
Gibbs studied Tony before he answered. He was smiling, but Gibbs thought he could see anxiousness and fear through some of the cracks in Tony’s veneer. Gibbs knew he had to be careful about what he said but now might be the time to introduce a subject he hadn’t touched on yet. “Tony, I think I can invest a week in making sure you get better. I’ve got years into making you the best agent I ever trained.” He paused, took a breath and said, “Besides, if I don’t learn what they’re doing for you now, we’ll both be screwed when we get to my house after they release you.”
And that statement was met with total silence. Tony was shocked and didn’t seem to know what to say and Gibbs wasn’t about to say another word-daring Tony to object. They were frozen, staring unblinkingly at each other, when Dr. Anderson came in for his morning visit. Gibbs wasn’t sure if he was irritated or relieved by the timing.
“Good morning gentlemen. I trust you’re enjoying the new room. Much better than ICU, I think. Saw your chart, looks like you had a good night Tony. A few more of those and you’ll be out of here before you know it.” That statement caused Tony and Gibbs to look at each other again, neither of them commenting.
“We aren’t going to x-ray you today Tony. I don’t think there’s much point. The x-rays over the past few days have shown a steady improvement and there’s no reason to think that hasn’t continued. We’ll take some in a couple of days, and that will help us decide what else needs to happen here. Actually, once the pneumonia’s under control, there isn’t a lot of reason to keep you hospitalized. Everything else can continue to heal from the comforts of your own bed.”
“What about getting around and,” Tony seemed to pause, embarrassed by where his question was headed and not knowing how to phrase it. “You know, taking care of necessities,” was what he finally settled on, waving his hand a bit near his hip to help make himself understood.
“Yes well, tomorrow we’ll remove the catheter and start getting you up a bit, if your strength is back sufficiently. I’m sure you’ve used crutches before, so that shouldn’t be too big an issue. Once we do that, we can try solid food. We’re going to start cutting back on some of the medication today and see what happens. That’ll be the first step.”
“Which medications?” Gibbs asked.
“Well, we’re still giving him a significant amount of pain control medicine. We’ll start cutting down on that and seeing if we can substitute with less potent drugs, which can be taken orally. We’ll also start lowering the levels of antibiotics, and that will mean watching the lungs closely and also monitoring for post operative infections,” Dr. Anderson said, waiting to see if either of the men had questions. “If you continue to do well on the soft diet, Tony, we can also lessen the fluids and nutritional supplements,” he then said.
“So I’ll be eating pizza before I know it, is that what you’re saying Doc?” Tony asked only half jokingly.
“That might take just a bit longer; but you’ll get there soon enough,” Dr. Anderson promised. He then proceeded to check Tony’s various monitors. Pleased with what he saw, he promised to check on Tony later, to see how the changes were going.
That left them alone again; looking at each other in silence.
“Gibbs”
“Tony”
They spoke at the same time, causing them both to laugh.
“Go ahead,” Gibbs said, beating Tony to the punch.
“You don’t need to offer up your house. I’ll be fine at my own apartment. I’ve had to manage on crutches lots of times before,” Tony said.
“But you don’t have to this time, Tony. I want you to stay with me until you’re better.” Gibbs said. “And, Tony, I would never think of you as an obligation. You’re a choice " a choice that I’ve made.”
“Yeah well, we’ve all made choices we regret, Boss,” Tony said bitterly.
“Don’t I know it,” Gibbs answered him. “I’ve made a bunch of bad choices over the years, but you’re not one of them, Tony.”
“It’d be better if you just let me go back to my place, Gibbs,” Tony said, although he didn’t sound as adamant as before, Gibbs thought.
“Now that would be a bad choice,” Gibbs told him.
Tony just looked at him, studying his face as if searching for something. Apparently finding whatever he was looking for, he gave a little smile and said, “I’m a terrible roommate Gibbs. I play the television too loud, leave dirty dishes sitting around, and I even forget to put down the toilette seat.”
“It’ll be okay Tony. As long as you don’t leave pantyhose hanging from the shower rod I’m good,” Gibbs said, relieved now that they were on easier ground. He knew they’d revisit this conversation later but that it was closed for now.
“So, want to find the news on the idiot box?” he asked Tony, and smiled to himself as Tony happily clicked the controller at the television.
They watched the television the rest of the morning, Gibbs dozing as the dialogue and Tony’s commentaries provided a soundtrack for his sleep.
In the early afternoon, soft knocking on the already open door pulled Tony’s attention away from the television. McGee and Ziva stood in the doorway, their arms laden with magazines for Tony and coffee for Gibbs.
“Get your asses in here,” Tony called excitedly when he saw them, the change in his voice’s tone waking Gibbs from his nap.
“Hey there, Tony,” McGee said as he cautiously entered the room. Ziva followed behind, taking in all the details in one sweep of her eyes. Looking over at Gibbs, he simply acknowledged his presence with a nod of the head and a soft, “Boss,” and he wordlessly handed over the coffee.
“Hello Tony,” Ziva said, “I am glad you are doing better.”
“Have to be Ziva. You guys can’t be left on your own for too long. No telling what could happen without me to keep you in line,” he quipped happily.
“Already happened,” Gibbs grunted from the chair, causing McGee to wince and Ziva to shrug, even as she smiled at Tony.
Tony was now intrigued. “Spit it out, Elf Lord. What’s Gibbs talking about?”
McGee hesitated, not knowing if he should talk about Lynch with Tony, not wanting to stir up unpleasant memories.
“He is referring to our investigation into what happened to you, Tony,” Ziva said.
“What about it Ziva?” Tony asked.
“We may have pushed the letter a bit”
“Envelope, Ziva. See, you’re already forgetting your English without me there,” Tony said, taking comfort in the familiar. “What did you mean by that,” he asked, zeroing back in on what had been said.
Ziva glanced over at Gibbs, who nodded his approval for her to continue.
“When Cassie and her team took over,” this statement causing Tony to glance at Gibbs, knowing how he hated to give up control of a case, “McGee and I had Abby process some evidence we happened to find while waiting for Cassie at the crime scene, and that led to a possible location for Lynch. We did not want to bother Cassie, so we investigated it ourselves.”
“That’s one way to describe what you two idiots did,” Gibbs commented.
McGee could not resist anymore, and he picked up the story, telling Tony about how they gained access to Lynch’s apartment building and their imitation of a drunken couple. “I didn’t even know Ziva knew what a Jersey girl was,” he said as the story was concluded.
Tony was gasping with laughter by that time and he was having trouble catching his breath. His laughter suddenly morphed into body racking coughs, causing his face to flush a deep red and the gasping to take on an urgent and alarming quality.
Gibbs was on his feet in an instant, pulling Tony up into a sitting position and pounding on his back to clear the gathering mucus from his airway. McGee had seen this before, when Tony had the plague, but Ziva had not.
Seeing Tony like that, and noting the blood that spotted the tissue Gibbs held to Tony’s mouth, she took a step back, even as McGee moved closer, ready to help. She was not good in deeply personal moments, and viewing Tony’s weakness made her feel awkward. She watched as McGee reached over and helped hold Tony up while Gibbs worked on helping Tony breath. Standing alone, watching, Ziva was reminded her of her early months at NCIS, when she was treated as an intruder and viewed with suspicion.
Tony was slowly recovering, and he lifted his head, his eyes catching Ziva’s. Ziva realized that she didn’t want to go back to being the outsider. Making a decision, she stepped closer. Going over to the table beside the bed, she pulled another tissue from the box. Reaching out, she removed the soiled one from Gibbs’ hand, replacing it with the clean tissue.
Glancing over at her in surprise, Gibbs murmured his thanks, and then focused back on Tony. “Better now?” he asked, as Tony’s breathing began to stabilize.
“M’fine,” Tony mumbled his patented reply.
“I think Vance reacted similarly to the story,” McGee said, breaking the tension in the room. “We’re assigned to cold cases until Gibbs is back and everyone else in the bullpen is avoiding us.”
“That’s probably because they’re afraid Ziva is ready to kill something,” Tony managed to say.
Knowing the worst was over, Gibbs signaled for McGee to lay Tony back onto the bed.
The room was quiet for a few moments while everyone relaxed.
“We brought you some magazines,” McGee said, eager to move them away from what had just happened. “Figured even you needed a break from Magnum P.I. reruns.”
The visit continued for another half hour, joking and teasing permeating the conversation. They moved casually from one topic to another. Finally, Tony’s eyes began to droop and he seemed to be having difficulties following what was being said.
“That’s it people. It’s DiNozzo’s naptime,” Gibbs announced after seeing Tony’s head jerk, as he struggled to stay awake.
“I’m not a baby,” Tony objected.
“Maybe not, but you are ready for some sleep,” Gibbs replied in his ‘no one dares argue with me’ voice.
McGee and Ziva took the hint, saying their goodbyes and promising to come back tomorrow.
Once they were gone, Tony began to argue that he wasn’t really tired, irritating Gibbs who decided to shut that down immediately. “We’re not going to have a repeat of yesterday, Tony,” he declared. “You are tired, exhausted in fact, and you are going to take a nap.” Then, letting the command in his voice drop, he added, “Go to sleep Tony. I’ll keep the nightmares away; I did last night.”
When Tony’s shoulders sagged, Gibbs knew he had guessed correctly. Tony looked up at Gibbs’ unwavering eyes and gave a small nod. He lifted his hand up off the bed slightly and Gibbs, knowing what he wanted, took it in his own. Then Tony let his eyes close.
Dr. Pitt’s arrival, late in the afternoon, woke Tony. Taking in all the tokens from Tony’s well wishers, he sighed dramatically and announced, “Oh to be the popular boy in school.”
Tony rolled his eyes, and said, “Hey Brad.”
“I thought I’d find you sitting up in bed, talking a blue streak.”
“That was earlier,” Gibbs said dryly. “He’s just resting his mouth right now, gearing up for the next round.”
“Well that’s good. If it hadn’t happened I’d be concerned that we moved you here too soon, Tony.”
“Did you come for a specific reason or just to rag on me, Brad?” Tony asked sweetly.
“Just checking up on you. Your other doctors are amazed at how quickly you’re recovering. I need to keep up my image as a miracle worker; don’t want them finding out this is always how it goes with you. If I didn’t come around regularly they might figure it out,” Brad said, smirking slightly.
“How’s the coughing?” he then asked.
“Not a real problem.” Tony answered.
Brad looked over at Gibbs, knowing he would get the truth from him. “He’s had a couple of bad rounds, but it is getting better. He’s going longer and longer between fits, and seems to be breathing better in general,” Gibbs tattled.
“Well your temperature seems stalled at about one hundred degrees, so although the pneumonia’s not gone, it looks like it’s on its way out. We’ll see what happens as the antibiotics flush out of your system. You know Tony, all kidding aside, you really are a lucky s.o.b.” Brad said. “But everyone’s luck runs out at some point. Your lungs aren’t going to keep taking stuff like this. You might want to think about that and take some precautions.”
That was not what Tony wanted to hear, and he definitely didn’t want Gibbs thinking about it. “Noted,” he said, eager to brush it off. “So, how’s your team shaping up this year? Think they’ll embarrass themselves when they play OSU this year. It sure didn’t turn out well for them last time,” knowing this would sidetrack Brad.
They launched into a lengthy discussion of all the teams’ strengths and weaknesses, making speculations about how the season would shape up. Gibbs sat and listened with half an ear. He was very aware of what Tony was doing. Tony had played Brad like the pro he was. Brad had a point, though. Tony got himself into bad situations way too often. That was going to have to change, but figuring out how to do that was the trick and he let his mind wander.
Gibbs was thinking about the problem when he heard, “Boss? Hey, Very Special Agent to Gibbs. You with me, Boss?”
Gibbs looked over at Tony, noticing that Brad had left. Tony was watching him intently, a contemplative expression on his face. “Boss, why don’t you go back to sleep. You’re tired and I’m just going to watch some TV,” Tony said, careful to keep his voice light and breezy.
“Plenty of time to sleep later,” Gibbs grunted back.
“Not if you’re going to watch me sleep all night,” Tony said, lifting his chin, daring Gibbs to challenge him.
“Someone’s got to DiNozzo.” Gibbs said, and then, saying ‘what the hell’ to himself, he added, “And I want to,” and then found himself holding his breath, wondering what Tony would say.
“I‘d like that,” came the soft reply. Then, the admission making him uneasy, and not wanting to give Gibbs a chance to say more, Tony turned on the television, adjusted the volume lower, and pretended to become engrossed in some talk show.
Gibbs contented himself with watching Tony for a bit, surprised by how nice it was not having to hide it, not worrying about other people noticing his interest. He would miss that when things went back to normal. After it became clear that Tony was done talking for a while, Gibbs gave in to his own fatigue and let himself go back to sleep.
The rest of the day went by in a blur. Food, medicine and instructions were pushed down Tony. Abby and Ducky came and went. Gibbs retrieved coffee and food from across the street. And the television played on. By eight o’clock Tony was showing the effects of the heightened activity and the decrease in pain medications. His face looked drawn and there was a tautness around his eyes. His talking had taken on the manic quality that Gibbs now recognized as Tony’s way of avoiding the unpleasant.
Sighing, Gibbs wondered how long this was going to go on. Eventually Tony would have to confront the dreams " he couldn’t continue being afraid of sleep. “Bedtime, Tony,” he said. “You’ve got to get some sleep.”
“Are you going back to work tomorrow Boss?” Tony asked, not really sure what he wanted Gibbs’ answer to be.
“Yeah, I’d better, before Ziva hurts someone. They’ll keep you plenty busy here during the day, and I’ll be back in the evening,” Gibbs said, working to reassure them both.
“To watch me sleep?” Tony asked, letting Gibbs know that the previous conversation had not been forgotten.
“Yeah Tony, to watch you sleep.” Gibbs echoed.
“Okay,” was all Tony said, but it was enough.
Gibbs stood watching Tony sleep for a long time. He wondered when this had become his favorite hobby, even the boat paled in comparison. Tony’s face became vulnerable and strangely childlike in sleep. Gibbs knew he could look at it over and over again and never grow weary of the sight. Finally his tired knees and back got the better of him, and he tore his eyes away and eased himself down in the chair, glad that it was at least padded.
Gibbs picked the crossword puzzle book up off the floor from where it had fallen when he had exploded at Tony. Bringing it back up to his lap he thought about what had just happened. The pain and confusion that had shone through the tears in Tony’s eyes scared him. Looking back over the day Gibbs realized that Tony had been building to that moment all day long " longer actually when he really stopped to think about it. Yesterday Tony had made that weird, self loathing apology and then last night he had lied to Gibbs when he said he didn’t remember the nightmare. Today, even though he looked exhausted, the mere suggestion that he take a nap had sent Tony into a frenzy of side stepping and avoidance. Gibbs suspected the nightmares had a lot to do with Tony’s behavior today, but he knew they were a symptom not the ailment. Gibbs wasn’t sure what was at the root of Tony’s problem but he understood it had left Tony with a distorted self image. Eventually it was going to need to be dealt with but Gibbs knew that helping Tony’s body to heal had to come first. Gibbs looked back down at the crossword and smiled. Well, he’d always been good at puzzles he told himself, appreciating the irony.
There was less coming and going by medical personnel on the new floor. Gibbs suspected this was due to more patients and less help, rather than any radical improvement on Tony’s part, and he was glad that he was there to keep a closer eye on Tony. As the hours dragged by Gibbs had gotten restless. He’d plugged in the CD player and listened to Miles Davis again while he finished two more crosswords. At one point he had found himself wondering around the room, rereading the short missives from Tony’s well wishers. Earlier he had given in to impulse and had dragged Bert off the windowsill and placed him next to Tony, amused when Tony’s arm had wrapped around the ugly stuffed hippo, producing a quiet fart. Finally, wanting something different to do, he sat back down and pulled out the book on motorcycle maintenance Ducky had for some reason packed for him. He looked it over "The Zen and Art of Motorcycle Maintenance " and wondered what in the hell it was, and why Ducky had sent it.
After reading a few chapters, Gibbs realized that Ducky had pulled a fast one on him. The book wasn’t really about motorcycles, although they figured prominently in it. It was a statement of philosophy, developed on a cross country bike trip the author had taken with his son. Despite that, Gibbs found himself getting hooked. He liked the author’s point of view. Pirsig, the author, was trying to show his son how the analytical and the intuitive aspects of a person needed to be combined; that no one could fully understand other people and the world until they could do that. That understanding was the ‘Zen.’ Gibbs liked that idea. He had always used his gut to steer his investigations " the intuitive and the intellectual. That was his problem with Tony right now he suddenly realized. The intuitive was screaming loudly, but Tony wasn’t giving him the information the analytical part of his brain needed to understand exactly what was going on. Gibbs also liked the way Pirsig used conversations between the father and son about taking care of the motorcycle to illustrate his points. It made the book interesting and kept it from sounding didactic. It was really the original ‘Philosophy for Dummies’, Gibbs thought with amusement, proud of himself for making a popular culture reference.
He was about a third of the way through the book when Tony started to stir. Knowing that this could be the onset of another nightmare, Gibbs got up and took Tony’s hand in his own. In a voice which he hoped was loud enough to cut through Tony’s dreams, but not loud enough to wake him, he assured Tony that he was okay and that he was just dreaming. He promised that nothing could really get at Tony, he was just asleep. It seemed to help. Tony tossed a couple more times, but then settled back down. Gibbs wished he knew what the dreams were about; it was hard to guess at what the right words of comfort were. As he looked down at Tony, thinking, he flashed on something the narrator in the book had said to his son after one stop to fix the bike. He’d said, “The solutions all are simple"after you have arrived at them. But they’re simple only when you know already what they are.” Gibbs chuckled quietly, amused by the truth of that statement.
Tony had a couple more shaky moments during the night, but each time Gibbs had kept him from getting pulled completely into the dream. By the time light filtered into the room from the window, Gibbs was exhausted, but feeling good. He’d gladly run on a couple of sleepless nights if it meant Tony slept soundly. He could always catch a nap or two during the day, he told himself. Now that Tony was in a regular room there would be daytime visitors, and Gibbs could quit being on guard twenty four hours a day. He closed the book, carefully marking his place, and stood, needing to move.
Tony woke not long after that. “Boss?” was his first word upon waking. Gibbs thought smugly that he could get used to hearing that every morning and then chided himself for his own presumptuousness. He was aware that this was an artificial environment and things might be quite different once Tony was out of the hospital.
“Morning, Tony. Sleep well?” he asked.
“Yeah,” said Tony, managing to sound relieved and puzzled all at once. “Wonder what the morning routine will be on this floor?” he asked, more to have something to say than to express real curiosity. When his hand brushed up against something he smiled slightly when he looked down and saw Bert. He looked over at Gibbs with a questioning expression.
Gibbs watched this, and was about to say something but stopped because Tony had started a round of coughing.
“Getting” coughing, “sick of” more coughing, “away soon.”
“Give it time, Tony. It will.” Gibbs was getting good at interpreting Tony’s coughed rants, having heard several yesterday, and he reached over to wipe at Tony’s face with the tissue he’d picked up.
Coughing, coughing, “embarrassing” coughing, “big baby” coughing “imposition” coughing.
“Shut up DiNozzo, you’re making it worse by talking. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. No one thinks you’re a baby, and you certainly aren’t an imposition on me. I don’t do anything I don’t want to, you know that.” Gibbs growled as he pounded on Tony’s back, helping to loosen the phlegm.
A respiratory therapist showed up in time to witness the last of the coughing. Taking over for Gibbs and administering advice on how to breathe through coughing fits, the therapist worked on setting Tony to rights. More hospital personnel appeared during this, and before Gibbs knew it Tony had been bathed, fed, examined, and ordered to rest.
“I don’t know about you Tony, but I’m tired just from watching all that,” Gibbs joked once the room had cleared.
Tony gave a small laugh and then asked, “Did you say yesterday that Ziva and McGeek were coming today?”
“Yep, McGee’s been biting at the bit for the last two days. Figured it could wait until you were able to talk back.”
“That’s good.” Tony lapsed back into silence for a minute, chewing on his lower lip as he though about something. Then he said, “Hey Boss, you don’t need to stay if you don’t want to. No need to worry. I’m a lot better and I know you probably want to do whatever it is you do on the weekends. I can entertain myself.”
“You trying to get rid of me? You better, and entertaining yourself, is what I’m worried about DiNozzo.” Gibbs said, trying to turn the conversation into a joke, knowing full well that Tony wasn’t well enough to cause anyone any trouble.
“Boss, you’ve got to be getting tired with all of this, I know I am. I don’t want to you to think of me as an obligation,” Tony said, his voice serious and honest.
Gibbs studied Tony before he answered. He was smiling, but Gibbs thought he could see anxiousness and fear through some of the cracks in Tony’s veneer. Gibbs knew he had to be careful about what he said but now might be the time to introduce a subject he hadn’t touched on yet. “Tony, I think I can invest a week in making sure you get better. I’ve got years into making you the best agent I ever trained.” He paused, took a breath and said, “Besides, if I don’t learn what they’re doing for you now, we’ll both be screwed when we get to my house after they release you.”
And that statement was met with total silence. Tony was shocked and didn’t seem to know what to say and Gibbs wasn’t about to say another word-daring Tony to object. They were frozen, staring unblinkingly at each other, when Dr. Anderson came in for his morning visit. Gibbs wasn’t sure if he was irritated or relieved by the timing.
“Good morning gentlemen. I trust you’re enjoying the new room. Much better than ICU, I think. Saw your chart, looks like you had a good night Tony. A few more of those and you’ll be out of here before you know it.” That statement caused Tony and Gibbs to look at each other again, neither of them commenting.
“We aren’t going to x-ray you today Tony. I don’t think there’s much point. The x-rays over the past few days have shown a steady improvement and there’s no reason to think that hasn’t continued. We’ll take some in a couple of days, and that will help us decide what else needs to happen here. Actually, once the pneumonia’s under control, there isn’t a lot of reason to keep you hospitalized. Everything else can continue to heal from the comforts of your own bed.”
“What about getting around and,” Tony seemed to pause, embarrassed by where his question was headed and not knowing how to phrase it. “You know, taking care of necessities,” was what he finally settled on, waving his hand a bit near his hip to help make himself understood.
“Yes well, tomorrow we’ll remove the catheter and start getting you up a bit, if your strength is back sufficiently. I’m sure you’ve used crutches before, so that shouldn’t be too big an issue. Once we do that, we can try solid food. We’re going to start cutting back on some of the medication today and see what happens. That’ll be the first step.”
“Which medications?” Gibbs asked.
“Well, we’re still giving him a significant amount of pain control medicine. We’ll start cutting down on that and seeing if we can substitute with less potent drugs, which can be taken orally. We’ll also start lowering the levels of antibiotics, and that will mean watching the lungs closely and also monitoring for post operative infections,” Dr. Anderson said, waiting to see if either of the men had questions. “If you continue to do well on the soft diet, Tony, we can also lessen the fluids and nutritional supplements,” he then said.
“So I’ll be eating pizza before I know it, is that what you’re saying Doc?” Tony asked only half jokingly.
“That might take just a bit longer; but you’ll get there soon enough,” Dr. Anderson promised. He then proceeded to check Tony’s various monitors. Pleased with what he saw, he promised to check on Tony later, to see how the changes were going.
That left them alone again; looking at each other in silence.
“Gibbs”
“Tony”
They spoke at the same time, causing them both to laugh.
“Go ahead,” Gibbs said, beating Tony to the punch.
“You don’t need to offer up your house. I’ll be fine at my own apartment. I’ve had to manage on crutches lots of times before,” Tony said.
“But you don’t have to this time, Tony. I want you to stay with me until you’re better.” Gibbs said. “And, Tony, I would never think of you as an obligation. You’re a choice " a choice that I’ve made.”
“Yeah well, we’ve all made choices we regret, Boss,” Tony said bitterly.
“Don’t I know it,” Gibbs answered him. “I’ve made a bunch of bad choices over the years, but you’re not one of them, Tony.”
“It’d be better if you just let me go back to my place, Gibbs,” Tony said, although he didn’t sound as adamant as before, Gibbs thought.
“Now that would be a bad choice,” Gibbs told him.
Tony just looked at him, studying his face as if searching for something. Apparently finding whatever he was looking for, he gave a little smile and said, “I’m a terrible roommate Gibbs. I play the television too loud, leave dirty dishes sitting around, and I even forget to put down the toilette seat.”
“It’ll be okay Tony. As long as you don’t leave pantyhose hanging from the shower rod I’m good,” Gibbs said, relieved now that they were on easier ground. He knew they’d revisit this conversation later but that it was closed for now.
“So, want to find the news on the idiot box?” he asked Tony, and smiled to himself as Tony happily clicked the controller at the television.
They watched the television the rest of the morning, Gibbs dozing as the dialogue and Tony’s commentaries provided a soundtrack for his sleep.
In the early afternoon, soft knocking on the already open door pulled Tony’s attention away from the television. McGee and Ziva stood in the doorway, their arms laden with magazines for Tony and coffee for Gibbs.
“Get your asses in here,” Tony called excitedly when he saw them, the change in his voice’s tone waking Gibbs from his nap.
“Hey there, Tony,” McGee said as he cautiously entered the room. Ziva followed behind, taking in all the details in one sweep of her eyes. Looking over at Gibbs, he simply acknowledged his presence with a nod of the head and a soft, “Boss,” and he wordlessly handed over the coffee.
“Hello Tony,” Ziva said, “I am glad you are doing better.”
“Have to be Ziva. You guys can’t be left on your own for too long. No telling what could happen without me to keep you in line,” he quipped happily.
“Already happened,” Gibbs grunted from the chair, causing McGee to wince and Ziva to shrug, even as she smiled at Tony.
Tony was now intrigued. “Spit it out, Elf Lord. What’s Gibbs talking about?”
McGee hesitated, not knowing if he should talk about Lynch with Tony, not wanting to stir up unpleasant memories.
“He is referring to our investigation into what happened to you, Tony,” Ziva said.
“What about it Ziva?” Tony asked.
“We may have pushed the letter a bit”
“Envelope, Ziva. See, you’re already forgetting your English without me there,” Tony said, taking comfort in the familiar. “What did you mean by that,” he asked, zeroing back in on what had been said.
Ziva glanced over at Gibbs, who nodded his approval for her to continue.
“When Cassie and her team took over,” this statement causing Tony to glance at Gibbs, knowing how he hated to give up control of a case, “McGee and I had Abby process some evidence we happened to find while waiting for Cassie at the crime scene, and that led to a possible location for Lynch. We did not want to bother Cassie, so we investigated it ourselves.”
“That’s one way to describe what you two idiots did,” Gibbs commented.
McGee could not resist anymore, and he picked up the story, telling Tony about how they gained access to Lynch’s apartment building and their imitation of a drunken couple. “I didn’t even know Ziva knew what a Jersey girl was,” he said as the story was concluded.
Tony was gasping with laughter by that time and he was having trouble catching his breath. His laughter suddenly morphed into body racking coughs, causing his face to flush a deep red and the gasping to take on an urgent and alarming quality.
Gibbs was on his feet in an instant, pulling Tony up into a sitting position and pounding on his back to clear the gathering mucus from his airway. McGee had seen this before, when Tony had the plague, but Ziva had not.
Seeing Tony like that, and noting the blood that spotted the tissue Gibbs held to Tony’s mouth, she took a step back, even as McGee moved closer, ready to help. She was not good in deeply personal moments, and viewing Tony’s weakness made her feel awkward. She watched as McGee reached over and helped hold Tony up while Gibbs worked on helping Tony breath. Standing alone, watching, Ziva was reminded her of her early months at NCIS, when she was treated as an intruder and viewed with suspicion.
Tony was slowly recovering, and he lifted his head, his eyes catching Ziva’s. Ziva realized that she didn’t want to go back to being the outsider. Making a decision, she stepped closer. Going over to the table beside the bed, she pulled another tissue from the box. Reaching out, she removed the soiled one from Gibbs’ hand, replacing it with the clean tissue.
Glancing over at her in surprise, Gibbs murmured his thanks, and then focused back on Tony. “Better now?” he asked, as Tony’s breathing began to stabilize.
“M’fine,” Tony mumbled his patented reply.
“I think Vance reacted similarly to the story,” McGee said, breaking the tension in the room. “We’re assigned to cold cases until Gibbs is back and everyone else in the bullpen is avoiding us.”
“That’s probably because they’re afraid Ziva is ready to kill something,” Tony managed to say.
Knowing the worst was over, Gibbs signaled for McGee to lay Tony back onto the bed.
The room was quiet for a few moments while everyone relaxed.
“We brought you some magazines,” McGee said, eager to move them away from what had just happened. “Figured even you needed a break from Magnum P.I. reruns.”
The visit continued for another half hour, joking and teasing permeating the conversation. They moved casually from one topic to another. Finally, Tony’s eyes began to droop and he seemed to be having difficulties following what was being said.
“That’s it people. It’s DiNozzo’s naptime,” Gibbs announced after seeing Tony’s head jerk, as he struggled to stay awake.
“I’m not a baby,” Tony objected.
“Maybe not, but you are ready for some sleep,” Gibbs replied in his ‘no one dares argue with me’ voice.
McGee and Ziva took the hint, saying their goodbyes and promising to come back tomorrow.
Once they were gone, Tony began to argue that he wasn’t really tired, irritating Gibbs who decided to shut that down immediately. “We’re not going to have a repeat of yesterday, Tony,” he declared. “You are tired, exhausted in fact, and you are going to take a nap.” Then, letting the command in his voice drop, he added, “Go to sleep Tony. I’ll keep the nightmares away; I did last night.”
When Tony’s shoulders sagged, Gibbs knew he had guessed correctly. Tony looked up at Gibbs’ unwavering eyes and gave a small nod. He lifted his hand up off the bed slightly and Gibbs, knowing what he wanted, took it in his own. Then Tony let his eyes close.
Dr. Pitt’s arrival, late in the afternoon, woke Tony. Taking in all the tokens from Tony’s well wishers, he sighed dramatically and announced, “Oh to be the popular boy in school.”
Tony rolled his eyes, and said, “Hey Brad.”
“I thought I’d find you sitting up in bed, talking a blue streak.”
“That was earlier,” Gibbs said dryly. “He’s just resting his mouth right now, gearing up for the next round.”
“Well that’s good. If it hadn’t happened I’d be concerned that we moved you here too soon, Tony.”
“Did you come for a specific reason or just to rag on me, Brad?” Tony asked sweetly.
“Just checking up on you. Your other doctors are amazed at how quickly you’re recovering. I need to keep up my image as a miracle worker; don’t want them finding out this is always how it goes with you. If I didn’t come around regularly they might figure it out,” Brad said, smirking slightly.
“How’s the coughing?” he then asked.
“Not a real problem.” Tony answered.
Brad looked over at Gibbs, knowing he would get the truth from him. “He’s had a couple of bad rounds, but it is getting better. He’s going longer and longer between fits, and seems to be breathing better in general,” Gibbs tattled.
“Well your temperature seems stalled at about one hundred degrees, so although the pneumonia’s not gone, it looks like it’s on its way out. We’ll see what happens as the antibiotics flush out of your system. You know Tony, all kidding aside, you really are a lucky s.o.b.” Brad said. “But everyone’s luck runs out at some point. Your lungs aren’t going to keep taking stuff like this. You might want to think about that and take some precautions.”
That was not what Tony wanted to hear, and he definitely didn’t want Gibbs thinking about it. “Noted,” he said, eager to brush it off. “So, how’s your team shaping up this year? Think they’ll embarrass themselves when they play OSU this year. It sure didn’t turn out well for them last time,” knowing this would sidetrack Brad.
They launched into a lengthy discussion of all the teams’ strengths and weaknesses, making speculations about how the season would shape up. Gibbs sat and listened with half an ear. He was very aware of what Tony was doing. Tony had played Brad like the pro he was. Brad had a point, though. Tony got himself into bad situations way too often. That was going to have to change, but figuring out how to do that was the trick and he let his mind wander.
Gibbs was thinking about the problem when he heard, “Boss? Hey, Very Special Agent to Gibbs. You with me, Boss?”
Gibbs looked over at Tony, noticing that Brad had left. Tony was watching him intently, a contemplative expression on his face. “Boss, why don’t you go back to sleep. You’re tired and I’m just going to watch some TV,” Tony said, careful to keep his voice light and breezy.
“Plenty of time to sleep later,” Gibbs grunted back.
“Not if you’re going to watch me sleep all night,” Tony said, lifting his chin, daring Gibbs to challenge him.
“Someone’s got to DiNozzo.” Gibbs said, and then, saying ‘what the hell’ to himself, he added, “And I want to,” and then found himself holding his breath, wondering what Tony would say.
“I‘d like that,” came the soft reply. Then, the admission making him uneasy, and not wanting to give Gibbs a chance to say more, Tony turned on the television, adjusted the volume lower, and pretended to become engrossed in some talk show.
Gibbs contented himself with watching Tony for a bit, surprised by how nice it was not having to hide it, not worrying about other people noticing his interest. He would miss that when things went back to normal. After it became clear that Tony was done talking for a while, Gibbs gave in to his own fatigue and let himself go back to sleep.
The rest of the day went by in a blur. Food, medicine and instructions were pushed down Tony. Abby and Ducky came and went. Gibbs retrieved coffee and food from across the street. And the television played on. By eight o’clock Tony was showing the effects of the heightened activity and the decrease in pain medications. His face looked drawn and there was a tautness around his eyes. His talking had taken on the manic quality that Gibbs now recognized as Tony’s way of avoiding the unpleasant.
Sighing, Gibbs wondered how long this was going to go on. Eventually Tony would have to confront the dreams " he couldn’t continue being afraid of sleep. “Bedtime, Tony,” he said. “You’ve got to get some sleep.”
“Are you going back to work tomorrow Boss?” Tony asked, not really sure what he wanted Gibbs’ answer to be.
“Yeah, I’d better, before Ziva hurts someone. They’ll keep you plenty busy here during the day, and I’ll be back in the evening,” Gibbs said, working to reassure them both.
“To watch me sleep?” Tony asked, letting Gibbs know that the previous conversation had not been forgotten.
“Yeah Tony, to watch you sleep.” Gibbs echoed.
“Okay,” was all Tony said, but it was enough.
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