NCIS:Rag Doll. Angst/Drama PG 13 - 13/?
Title: Rag Doll
Chapter: 13/?
Fandom: NCIS
Author: cheekymice
Rating: PG13
Beta: Scousmuz1K
Genre: Drama/Angst
Disclaimer: I don't own anything relating to the TV show NCIS sadly.
~~~ ~~~~
Rag Doll
Gibbs’ knuckles were giving him a pleasant burn. He lowered himself down on the stairs in commander Grey’s house and flexed his hand, rubbing the puffy redness with the pad of his thumb.
Not the cleverest thing he’d ever done but by Christ it had felt good.
Leaning to the side, he rested his head against the wall and shut his eyes.
His body willed him to get some sleep but Gibbs’ brain wasn’t having any of it. Too many thoughts were zigzagging around inside his head and he knew he wouldn’t rest easy until he heard back from the hospital.
Opening his eyes he checked his watch again and flipped open his cell to check that the damn thing hadn’t turned itself off.
He’d been categorically told that if DiNozzo’s condition changed then he would be the first to know. Pissing everyone off on the floor wouldn’t achieve anything even though that was his forte.
The display shone back at him brightly, he almost wished that the cell had turned itself off because that would have given him the excuse to call.
Sighing, Gibbs snapped his phone shut and shoved it back in his pocket. He shut his eyes again and tried to be patient, because no call meant DiNozzo was fighting and he expected no less. Tony was one of the most tenacious men he knew, and even though that particular trait drove him nuts more often than not Gibbs thanked God the characteristic was so prevalent in his friend. Hell, if Tony hadn’t been such a fighter then he wouldn’t have beaten the eighty-five percent morbidity rate that came along with the pneumonic plague.
So not hearing anything was definitely a good thing but it was still taking every ounce of his self-control to not break and call the ER to check on the status of his agent.
“Imee has just left for the hotel with her mom.”
Gibbs looked up.
Vance loomed over him and held out a bag of frozen peas.
“Here. The local police took deep exception to the SecNav, which was pretty impressive considering he was here for less than an hour. This is a gift from the chief, I think he may want to hold you a parade.”
Gibbs snorted out a tired laugh.
“A parade would be good but I doubt SecNav will be throwing any ticker tape.” He wrapped the bag around his hand. “So, do I still have a job?”
“Just…only just, Jethro,” Vance smiled wryly and sat down on the same step. “I think you hurt his pride along with his jaw, and boy he did he want to make an example of you. He didn’t know quite how to react though, when I told him that if you hadn’t hit him then I would have. I eventually talked him down to a weeks suspension and I know you’re not going to like it…”
Vance leaned against the balustrade and looked as tired as he felt
Gibbs sighed and nodded. “Okay, hit me with it.”
“You and your team don’t get to investigate any further.” Vance continued.
“What! No! That’s a crock of shit, Leon. DiNozzo didn’t go through all this only to have us hand over the case to another team!” Gibbs sat up straight.
“Look, it had to be something that he knew would piss you off, you’re lucky you got off that lightly!” Vance raised his voice.
“Well, you’re damn right that I’m pissed.” Gibbs all but yelled. “Jesus, Leon, remember that DiNozzo is only in this mess due to your inability to provide him with adequate back up. I don’t give a shit about what you do to me but you owe it to him to let us see this through.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be a dangerous op!” Vance snapped.
“Tell that to DiNozzo. Oh wait, you can’t because he’s currently having surgery to remove bits of skull from his brain.” Gibbs snapped back.
Jimmy Palmer was in the process of moving a gurney through the hall. He tried to be as unobtrusive as possible considering who the two men were; then they started arguing and he panicked. What to do? He paused and looked from one man to the other like a deer caught in the headlights, and although it wasn’t intentional he couldn’t help but overhear the conversation, seeing that both men were shouting.
His gut clenched painfully.
What?
Brain surgery?
That wasn’t right; hadn’t Ziva assured him that Tony was okay?
“Hey! Calm down or you’ll wish I had fired you, Special Agent Gibbs!!” Vance continued, his voice bouncing off the walls and he suddenly swung his head towards where the ME’s assistant stood rooted to the spot watching the two men as they argued. “And you move, Palmer, this is a private conversation.”
Jimmy blinked in terror as two pairs of angry eyes turned his way. He tried to scurry off quickly but in his haste the wheels of the gurney got jammed against the frame of the front door. Frantically he shoved the gurney again and again, trying to get the body through the open space.
“S-Sorry, um…I’ll be just a moment,” Jimmy stuttered as he continued to panic and continued to try and force the gurney through the wall instead of the door. He gave a hard push and the body started to slide off the smooth, cold surface. He quickly grabbed the body bag and his knees buckled at the weight of the corpse. “Woops-a-daisy, um… just a second and I’ll be gone.”
It was like watching a farce. Eventually with the body replaced and the gurney repositioned, Jimmy made it through the door.
Gibbs turned and stared at Vance.
Vance stared back.
Mexican stand off time.
Neither wanting to back down.
Gibbs was just about to open his mouth when there was a loud crash and a curse from outside.
Vance raised his eyes skywards and shook his head. He opened his mouth and yelled.
“Mister Palmer, get that damn body out of here!”
“Yes, Sir, sorry Sir.” Jimmy called out sounding breathless.
Gibbs would bet good money that he was manhandling the body again.
When Vance looked his way again the look of anger was replaced by a big grin as he started to laugh.
The fury Gibbs felt dissipated and he couldn’t help but join in; it was the early hours of the morning and he was just too damn tired for drama.
“That boy is a walking disaster.” Vance chuckled.
“You know that DiNozzo calls him ‘The Autopsy Gremlin’.”
“Do I even want to know what he calls me?” Vance snorted.
Gibbs grinned and said slyly, “The Toothpick.”
“Ahhh, that’s where that little gem came from, I should have known,” Vance smiled ruefully. “I’ve got to say I’ve been called a lot worse.”
Gibbs dumped the bag of peas down on the step next to him and shook the condensation from the plastic from his hand; he stared straight at Vance’s face.
“The team owe it to DiNozzo to follow up on this case, Leon, seeing that he can’t right now,” he said calmly, even though his gut took the elevator downwards just thinking about why DiNozzo wouldn’t be able to see this assignment through to the end.
“Jethro,” Vance interjected.
“At least let McGee and Abby process Grey’s computer. Hell, suspend me for a month without pay instead.” Gibbs pleaded and he didn’t do that often or lightly.
Vance sighed.
“Jethro, if you’d let me finish before going postal on me I was trying to tell you that what I knew, but the SecNav didn’t, was the fact that the FBI are taking over the case from here on in as a continuation of operation ‘Ruby Slipper’ and before you say anything I can’t do anything about that. Trust me, I already tried but the involvement of the Senator has turned this into a political time bomb and the FBI have jurisdiction over that.”
Gibbs ran his tongue over his lips feeling more than a little stupid. This case meant a lot to Leon and he should have known he wouldn’t float them down the river on this one.
“It does make sense; they have the manpower and the resources to be able to throw everything at this. It also means that once everything is cleared up here your team can have some downtime. I’ve taken them off rotation for a week to coincide with your suspension and if SecNav doesn’t like it he can shove his complaints where the sun doesn’t shine.” Vance rooted in his pocket and triumphantly pulled out a pick. Unwrapping the paper, he shoved it in the side of his mouth.
“Sorry, it’s been a long night. …” Gibbs said thinking about DiNozzo. He’d yet to fill the team in and he knew they wouldn’t be happy about leaving their colleague alone whilst they went back to Washington. Reports could be done wherever and there were enough junior agents wandering around who could take equipment and evidence boxes back to the yard. “Off rotation, does that mean…”
“It means they can do what the hell they like for a week. Just make sure they fill in their timesheets to say that they’ve been working on cold-cases to keep the bean-counters happy and I’ll turn a blind eye.” Vance winced as he got up and stretched his back and neck. “I really can’t cope with these all-nighters anymore. I’m getting old.”
Gibbs stood up too.
“Thank you, Leon, I mean that.”
“I’m going to head for the hospital and you need to be honest with your team and tell them about DiNozzo, although I suspect that Palmer might have already got the jump on that one for you,” Vance said pointedly as he nodded and walked away.
Gibbs picked up the bag of peas from the step.
This was one conversation he was not looking forward to, but the benefits of acting the bastard boss was that one glare was usually enough to shut down any revolt in the ranks.
~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~
“Mr. DiNozzo? Mr.DiNozzo, are you with us?”
Pain screamed through every part of his body. His head felt like it was being squeezed in a vice and his hands and fingers burned with an intensity that took his breath away.
He could sense many people moving around him, could hear harried voices. Hands touched different his body and he tried to pull away.
Oh God.
He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this bad. He was sure if he were a dog they would have put him down and that pain told him this was no dream.
“Mr. DiNozzo.”
The annoying voice was back.
“We are just going to administer the anesthetic. I know it’s all a bit scary now but we’ll soon get you fixed up.”
Great, the one thing he hated more than being woken up to be told that they were going to put you to sleep was the tone of voice some doctors used when you were in the ER. He wasn’t five so why the hell was this guy speaking to him as if he was.
Was he scared?
No. Scared was staring down the barrel of a Sig Sauer, scary was running out of a building as a timer counted down from five to four seconds, scary was tonguing a post op transsexual without knowing whilst he/she fondled your fun-zone. Nope, someone injecting a bunch of drugs into the back of your hand was not remotely scary.
So what if he couldn’t quite remember why he needed surgery, he didn’t much care because artificial oblivion sounded really, really good right now even if it meant getting cut open to achieve it. Pretty much every part of his body pulsated with a red-hot agony and he was definitely up for being pumped full of tranquilizers and anesthetics if it meant he no longer felt like he was being attacked by fire ants.
“Can you hear me, Mr. DiNozzo?”
‘Yeah, stop shouting and leave me the fuck alone’ his brain screamed as someone peeled his eyelids up and a blinding light pierced through each of his retinas in turn.
“He’s still unresponsive, people, let’s get him under and get rid of this clot,” a voice called.
Hey, he was responding, it wasn’t his fault that they couldn’t read his mind.
Tony felt a strange warm feeling swiftly traveling up his arm and everything started to get a little more freaky and fuzzy around the edges. He swallowed hard as he was turned on his side and everything faded.
~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Gibbs hunkered further down on one of the cracked brown leatherette chairs that lined the hospital waiting room and wrapped his arms around his chest.
He may have been tired but he was still to wired to sleep.
McGee and Ziva were sitting opposite him, watching an old documentary on Egypt that dated from the seventies if the lurid winged collared shirt and safari suit combo the narrator wore was any indication. The TV was bolted high on the wall to ensure that all who watched for more than five minutes would need to make an appointment with a chiropractor.
They weren’t the only occupants of the room. A family sat in the far corner, in a desolate knot. Father, mother and maybe a sister but Gibbs suspected girlfriend. She was a pretty brunette, Gibbs watched her as she sat silently crying and wiping her nose on a torn tissue. She was holding an infant close to her chest; the baby was sound asleep, pacifier in mouth, hand clutching a sippy cup.
Gibbs caught the father’s eye. From what he could gather their son had been shipped back from Afghanistan and it didn’t look good. He looked away; not liking the bleakness he saw but suspected was also mirrored in his own eyes.
On the television a curator of a museum somewhere was going into raptures over some Lapis Lazuli urns unearthed from a tomb.
The door to the waiting room opened making the occupants of the rooms look up expectantly.
They all turned their heads to see whom the news was for. The girl clutched the infant just that little bit tighter.
Jimmy Palmer’s face appeared.
“How is he?” Gibbs was on his feet in an instant.
“I don’t really know. Dr. Mallard is talking to the surgeon now but he sent me down to tell you that they’re moving Tony out of recovery and into the critical care unit; there’s no visiting but Dr. Mallard persuaded Tony’s doctor to let you stand by the door for a few minutes as long as you don’t interrupt.”
Gibbs nodded and moved towards the door. He turned when he realized that he wasn’t being followed.
“Well c’mon if you want to see DiNozzo,” he said patiently to the two agents. They both leapt up with twin looks of astonishment on their faces at the unexpected invitation.
He wasn’t that much of a bastard, occasionally he liked to throw them a bone and he figured that this would make up for not being one-hundred percent honest about Tony’s injuries from the beginning.
Palmer led the way and eventually stopped outside a large room; he stepped aside with a flourish. The door was open and the room thrummed with so much activity it was hard to actually see where DiNozzo ended and the medical staff started.
Ducky looked up and quickly finished his conversation with one of the doctors. He walked over and spoke softly to them all.
“You’ll be pleased to hear that Anthony has come through surgery splendidly,” Ducky paused.
“But…” Gibbs responded because this level of activity post -op didn’t bode well as far as he was concerned.
“He is going to be okay?” Ziva swallowed hard, her usual nonchalant demeanor cracked under the pressure of the lack of sleep and worry.
“My dear, he is doing remarkably well under the circumstances.” Ducky reached out and patted her arm.
“What the hell does that mean? Is he going to be okay or not?” Gibbs growled crankily as he looked past Ducky’s shoulder at his agent at where people were attaching machinery and electrodes to every exposed part of DiNozzo’s body. He didn’t like the fact that he was still unconscious either.
“The surgeons successfully removed a clot and repaired the fracture to Anthony’s skull; they also repaired some minor muscle damage to his leg, there was glass embedded in the tissue so the injury corresponds with your initial suspicions that Anthony jumped through the glass patio doors, Jethro.”
Ducky paused again and took in a breath.
“There is concern regarding Anthony’s hands. He sustained third degree congelatio…”
“Frostbite…” McGee muttered, he’d already trolled the Internet for any medical knowledge he thought pertinent regarding what the weather conditions might have thrown at his partner.
“Indeed, you are correct, Timothy.” Ducky looked surprised.
“How bad?” Gibbs asked.
“In extreme cases tissue damage escalates and gangrene can set in. If that happens then I’m afraid amputation may be the only option,” Ducky said solemnly, the implication of what he had just said was clear on his face.
Gibbs shut his eyes briefly; it felt like someone cut the brake cable on his stomach as it plummeted. Tony could kiss goodbye to his career in the field if he lost his fingers. He wouldn’t wish that on anyone but he knew that a disability like that would totally devastate someone like DiNozzo and he knew he wasn’t the only person thinking along the same lines. McGee had inhaled sharply, Ziva tensed and Palmer nervously chewed on his thumbnail.
Gibbs bit his tongue and didn’t comment and they all studiously kept their focus on Ducky as he continued to speak.
“But as I said, in extreme cases only and although there is a concern, Anthony is being monitored very carefully. That was one of the main reasons it took so long to get him into surgery, the team worked hard to minimize the damage and now it’s a matter of waiting.” Ducky said positively but it didn’t help lessen the concern.
“What about any other effects of the hypothermia?” Gibbs looked over to where a doctor was placing a tight oxygen mask over Tony’s face.
“They have started him on a combination of topical antibiotics. His lungs are unfortunately showing signs of congestion already but that is to be expected given his past problems. Again thankfully he received medical attention fairly swiftly and that will hopefully minimize the risk. Unfortunately they need to keep him sedated for now to give the swelling in his brain time to subside and that is not ideal considering the congestion in his lungs but it’s a case of the devil or the deep blue now.”
Ducky looked over his shoulder.
“The next twenty-four hours will be crucial and he’ll be monitored around the clock but he’s a fit young man and let me remind you of Anthony’s unique propensity for worrying us all unduly and coming out the other end with a pithy and often crass pun.”
“You got that right, Duck,” Gibbs snorted. “We’ve been here way too often,”
“I remember Abby saying when Tony ended up in hospital last year that she was going to permanently swathe him in bubble wrap, ” McGee raised a brow. This time she hadn’t joked, in fact she had gone so silent after he’d broken the news that he’d had to call on one of the girls in evidence to go and check on her after the call had ended.
Ducky smiled wearily at the comment.
“That might be prudent as he does seem to have a knack for getting himself in a pickle. What I’m trying to say is although Anthony is not out of the woods yet he has already come a long way and I have every faith that he will continue to improve, so I suggest we all take advantage of the fact that Anthony is sedated and not likely to wake to convene to the hotel for a few hours sleep and let these good people look after our friend.”
Gibbs let out the breath he’d been holding. The news wasn’t good but it could be worse. He clung onto that thought.
“I’m going to stay,” Ziva folded her arms.
“Me too,” Palmer moved next to Ziva in solidarity. McGee nodded in agreement.
Gibbs looked across at Ducky, then back at his team plus one. He had to stifle a smile.
They were like kids waiting to hear if they could stay up late. Well sometimes kids needed the voice of reason from an adult.
“Hotel now. Not much help to DiNozzo if we are all on our knees.”
Gibbs could understand why they wanted to stay but Ducky was right, they all needed to get some proper rest. Across the room the doctors were covering Tony with blankets and injecting drugs into the IV bags hanging above his head. Duck was right. DiNozzo was totally out of it and would be for hours. As much as Gibbs wanted to stay it made sense to grab some rest while they could. He knew Ducky well enough to be able to read the Scot, although he could see concern there but the tight anxiety of a few hours ago had mostly left the ME’s eyes telling him that DiNozzo’s first major hurdle was over.
“Agreed,” Ducky said firmly. “The hotel is less than a ten-minute drive away from here.”
“But…” McGee started.
“If there is any change in Anthony’s condition we can be here in less than five-minutes with Jethro’s driving. We all need some sleep, sitting in an uncomfortable chair in the waiting room for hours will not help our friend any, now will it?” Ducky said calmly.
“No, I am going to stay.” Ziva said firmly.
“Do I need to remind you that you are still on the clock, what I say goes…. hotel…sleep…eat, then we’ll convene back here at thirteen-hundred.” Gibbs narrowed his eyes.
Ziva also narrowed her eyes.
“We may be on the clock but you have been suspended so technically we don’t have to follow your orders,” She smiled slyly.
Gibbs stepped up to the group.
“Do you all really want to play that card, Agent David? Do you?” He stared at his agents. McGee swallowed hard. “Because the last time I looked a week was a real short space of time and before you know it I’ll be back and who knows what delights I’ll find for you and McGee to do around the yard.”
Jimmy moved away from the two agents and stood next to his superior causing Ducky to chuckle.
“Wise move Mr. Palmer.” The ME whispered and patted his back.
Ziva sighed dramatically and unfolded her arms. McGee’s shoulders slumped in defeat.
“Thought you’d see it my way.” Gibbs smiled broadly and slapped both lightly on the back of the head.
“Lets go, the sooner we leave, the sooner we can get back here.”
With one last look at Tony they silently moved away from the door with Ducky ushering them away.
=== === ====== ======= ======= ========= ======
“Where the hell did that come from?”
Tony muttered as he emptied his bedside locker.
Ten days in hospital and the amount of crap he’d accumulated was quite stunning.
Ziva patiently held open a trash sack for him.
“You are a pig, Tony.”
He stuffed used tissues and greetings cards into the bag, along with several rumpled magazines and old apple cores.
“Probie, make sure you get all my stuff out of the bathroom,’ he called out.
“You knew you were being released today so why didn’t you pack your crap before we arrived?” McGee groused from the adjoining bathroom.
“Hey, I’m an invalid, may I remind you about the six-inch scar across the back of my head,” Tony called through the door.
“I think it looks cool!” Abby moved up behind him and stroked the affected area.
“Looks cool! Are you crazy?” Tony pulled his head away from Abby’s petting and ran a hand across the sensitive scar. “They shaved the back of my head!! I’m never going to get lucky looking like this. I mean… I look like Gibbs!”
Tony “Is that right, DiNozzo?” Gibbs swept into the room, coffee cup in hand. “Are you insinuating that I don’t get laid?”
Abby and Ziva both sniggered. McGee’s head appeared around the bathroom door to enjoy Tony’s obvious discomfort.
“Ummm….” Tony winced and turned. “Of course not, Boss. I’m sure you have the ladies lining up around the block to get a piece of Leroy Jethro Gibbs.”
“If you have to rely on your hair to get some action then you’ve been doing it wrong all these years, DiNozzo.” Gibbs smiled broadly and took a slow sip of coffee.
“Well, I like it.” Abby stroked the growing stubble on the back of Tony’s head again. “You feel like a baby mouse.”
“A mouse!” Tony squeaked. “Hey, quit it. I’m a freaking stallion, a stud bull maybe but not a little buck-toothed critter.”
Ziva reached over and ran her fingertips against his skull. “Oh, it is soft. I think it’s more like a mole.”
The door opened and Lesley, the sexy nurse he’d been flirting with for the past week entered. She handed him a bag of meds and fluttered her eyelashes.
“Are your friends comparing you to a small mammal? Because that’s not what you’ve been telling all us ladies, Tony,” She responded.
“Sweetheart, you’ll be pleased to know I definitely have more in common with a stallion than a mouse or mole.” Tony leered.
“Honey, never brag to the person who inserted your catheter.” Nurse Lesley winked.
McGee snorted loudly.
“Hey, I was cold…I had hypothermia remember!” Tony spluttered as he grabbed the paper bag of drugs. He looked around the room. “You know she’s joking, right!”
“Sure she is, DiNozzo.” Gibbs picked off a grape from the fruit bowl that sat on the side and stuffed it in his mouth.
“But…” Tony protested.
“Oh trust me, Honey, you definitely redeemed yourself in that particular department even if you scarred our junior nurses for life. One is refusing to give another bed bath as long as she lives. Tell me, do you always have such a reaction to opiates or should we all be flattered on this floor?” Lesley laughed.
Abby perked up, as did Ziva.
Tony flushed a bright beet red.
“What’s this? Bed baths? Tell us more?” Abby sidled up to the nurse.
“Hey…no…don’t you nurses have to follow the Hippocratic oath or patient confidentiality or something!” Tony yelped.
Lesley very slowly shook her head.
“Nope. Abby, I have that book you wanted in my locker if you care to join me,” The nurse held out her arm and Abby linked her own arm through it. They headed for the door.
Ziva scuttled over.
“I think I may need a walk too,” she gave a pointed look towards Tony and grinned.
“Boss! Say something!” Tony pleaded.
“Ziva…Abs…” He barked as they reached the door.
Tony beamed smugly at the reprimand it quickly vanished when a look of feral mischievousness crossed Gibbs face.
“I want a full Sitrep when you get back.”
=== ==== ========== ========== ============
Tony stretched out on his couch, covered in several thick blankets, care of Muriel, his neighbor.
His meds were laid out with military precision, along with bottles of Gatorade, sodas and enough snacks to feed an army because according to Muriel he had lost weight and ‘was as scraggy as a plucked chicken’ now.
Picking up the first bottle he shook two capsules into his palm, he moved onto the next, then the next, and the next until he had a handful of brightly colored tablets.
Stuffing them into his mouth he winced, they may have looked like Skittles but they sure didn’t taste like them as an acrid bitterness flooded against his tongue. He quickly twisted the cap on a soda and swallowed the tablets down with half the bottle, belching loudly as the bubbles fought back. Putting the soda back down on the table he lay down, pulling a cushion under his head. It was good to be alone. No nurses poking and prodding him, as much as he’d enjoyed flirting with them the constant coming and going in his room had palled after a couple of days and as much as he loved his team he was relieved when they finally returned to work. Now he was home and under strict instructions from Ducky to rest.
Yeah, like that was going to be a problem.
He barely had enough energy to walk to the bathroom and back.
Yawning, he pulled the blankets around his body and curled up as much as he could on the couch.
Sleep hit without him even trying.
When he awoke it was dark and he had a crick in his neck. He sat up and ran his fingers through his hair then spent a good few minutes scratching his hands. They still itched like a bitch, the redness and swelling had lessened as the days had passed but he was still feeling the effects of the frostbite to his fingers. But he couldn’t complain even though the itch drove him nuts because at least he still had all his digits. He still broke out in a sweat thinking about how close he’d come to losing his fingers.
Unfurling himself from the cocoon of blankets twisted around his body he picked up a note that was prominently propped up against his meds.
‘Tony,
Stew warming in the oven, didn’t want to wake you, make sure you take your tablets then eat!
Love
Muriel
xx’
He smiled and went in search of his dinner…. checking his watch he revised that at the lateness of the hour…definitely counted as supper at nine-thirty. Yet again, he’d slept most of the day away. These days he felt like a bear in hibernation, as all he seemed to do was sleep.
He wasn’t really that hungry to be honest but he knew that the formidable Muriel was capable of calling Ducky if he didn’t follow her orders.
Opening the oven he sniffed as the aroma of savory beef wafted up from the covered plate. An old-fashioned oven glove in the shape of a highland cow that sat on the side certainly wasn’t his, but he took advantage, lifted the plate and carefully carried it back to the couch.
One mouthful had him taking the skin off the roof of his mouth. He opened his mouth and sucked and blew air in, to try and cool the molten mouthful before swallowing.
Pushing the stew away to cool he pulled his laptop over in front of him.
He hadn’t checked his mails since he’d been away and he deleted a ton of spam before he started reading the good stuff. There were several mails from Abby even though she must have known he wouldn’t be checking his personal inbox while on assignment, she always did the same, said it made everything ‘normal’ when he wasn’t there. He read them with a smile on his face as he swigged down his next round of tablets.
Then he moved onto the mails from fellow agents at the yard. It was always the same, the system was monitored at work for language and content so when any shit went down then they all moved onto private mail so they could all say what they really wanted to say.
Most were congratulating him on offing Special Agent Acker. The general consensus had been that the guy was a ‘wanker’ and wouldn’t be missed.
He tried to take it as it was intended; cops and people in law enforcement had a gallows sense of humor, joking and being crude about subjects that would leave other people shocked. Hell, he did the same all the time. It helped scare the bogymen away but it didn’t make it any easier.
Killing someone wasn’t something he relished, no matter how much of a bastard they’d been, but he always acted like it was no big deal even though it was because dwelling on it would just drive you over the edge.
Then the mails started to change.
Again, he knew people were trying to be funny but he was really not getting the joke this time.
Several agents had sent him pictures and comments about the assignment.
Women in their twenties dressed up as school kids posing coyly for the camera, twirling pigtails and licking on lollipops. Several agents made comments about his dating habits and the fact that he went out with women younger than himself, and then there were the endless jokes about pedophiles.
He could feel himself getting tenser and tenser as he read.
It really shouldn’t have gotten to him but it did.
He liked and respected the agents who were mailing him. And he knew it was just a case of obviously trying to lighten his mood after such a disturbing op.
It was just that he wasn’t ready to laugh this off as a joke.
Didn’t think he’d ever be able to think of what he’d done or seen as something to laugh about.
His views had changed over the past few months and he knew that he’d never joke about Catholic schoolgirl uniforms again.
It made him sick now.
And the dead girl buried in the woods, fodder for sick perverts, wouldn’t let him see these mails as a joke.
Imee certainly wouldn’t be laughing for a long time after all she’d been through.
He slammed down the lid of his laptop and slumped back against the back of the couch. His stew sat forgotten and congealing on the table in front of him.
He wasn’t remotely hungry now. The tablets and the e-mails had turned the contents of his stomach into a sour mix that was threatening to make a reappearance.
Everything he’d tried to ignore since he’d woken up in hospital was coming to the surface.
All the unpleasantness had been pushed down, and he hadn’t allowed himself to think about it all because there had been too many people around.
Now his brain was in overdrive.
And he didn’t think he could push it all away again.
Not this time.
TBC
Cake and love to all who review....the spank fairy to all who don't! :)
Chapter: 13/?
Fandom: NCIS
Author: cheekymice
Rating: PG13
Beta: Scousmuz1K
Genre: Drama/Angst
Disclaimer: I don't own anything relating to the TV show NCIS sadly.
~~~ ~~~~
Rag Doll
Gibbs’ knuckles were giving him a pleasant burn. He lowered himself down on the stairs in commander Grey’s house and flexed his hand, rubbing the puffy redness with the pad of his thumb.
Not the cleverest thing he’d ever done but by Christ it had felt good.
Leaning to the side, he rested his head against the wall and shut his eyes.
His body willed him to get some sleep but Gibbs’ brain wasn’t having any of it. Too many thoughts were zigzagging around inside his head and he knew he wouldn’t rest easy until he heard back from the hospital.
Opening his eyes he checked his watch again and flipped open his cell to check that the damn thing hadn’t turned itself off.
He’d been categorically told that if DiNozzo’s condition changed then he would be the first to know. Pissing everyone off on the floor wouldn’t achieve anything even though that was his forte.
The display shone back at him brightly, he almost wished that the cell had turned itself off because that would have given him the excuse to call.
Sighing, Gibbs snapped his phone shut and shoved it back in his pocket. He shut his eyes again and tried to be patient, because no call meant DiNozzo was fighting and he expected no less. Tony was one of the most tenacious men he knew, and even though that particular trait drove him nuts more often than not Gibbs thanked God the characteristic was so prevalent in his friend. Hell, if Tony hadn’t been such a fighter then he wouldn’t have beaten the eighty-five percent morbidity rate that came along with the pneumonic plague.
So not hearing anything was definitely a good thing but it was still taking every ounce of his self-control to not break and call the ER to check on the status of his agent.
“Imee has just left for the hotel with her mom.”
Gibbs looked up.
Vance loomed over him and held out a bag of frozen peas.
“Here. The local police took deep exception to the SecNav, which was pretty impressive considering he was here for less than an hour. This is a gift from the chief, I think he may want to hold you a parade.”
Gibbs snorted out a tired laugh.
“A parade would be good but I doubt SecNav will be throwing any ticker tape.” He wrapped the bag around his hand. “So, do I still have a job?”
“Just…only just, Jethro,” Vance smiled wryly and sat down on the same step. “I think you hurt his pride along with his jaw, and boy he did he want to make an example of you. He didn’t know quite how to react though, when I told him that if you hadn’t hit him then I would have. I eventually talked him down to a weeks suspension and I know you’re not going to like it…”
Vance leaned against the balustrade and looked as tired as he felt
Gibbs sighed and nodded. “Okay, hit me with it.”
“You and your team don’t get to investigate any further.” Vance continued.
“What! No! That’s a crock of shit, Leon. DiNozzo didn’t go through all this only to have us hand over the case to another team!” Gibbs sat up straight.
“Look, it had to be something that he knew would piss you off, you’re lucky you got off that lightly!” Vance raised his voice.
“Well, you’re damn right that I’m pissed.” Gibbs all but yelled. “Jesus, Leon, remember that DiNozzo is only in this mess due to your inability to provide him with adequate back up. I don’t give a shit about what you do to me but you owe it to him to let us see this through.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be a dangerous op!” Vance snapped.
“Tell that to DiNozzo. Oh wait, you can’t because he’s currently having surgery to remove bits of skull from his brain.” Gibbs snapped back.
Jimmy Palmer was in the process of moving a gurney through the hall. He tried to be as unobtrusive as possible considering who the two men were; then they started arguing and he panicked. What to do? He paused and looked from one man to the other like a deer caught in the headlights, and although it wasn’t intentional he couldn’t help but overhear the conversation, seeing that both men were shouting.
His gut clenched painfully.
What?
Brain surgery?
That wasn’t right; hadn’t Ziva assured him that Tony was okay?
“Hey! Calm down or you’ll wish I had fired you, Special Agent Gibbs!!” Vance continued, his voice bouncing off the walls and he suddenly swung his head towards where the ME’s assistant stood rooted to the spot watching the two men as they argued. “And you move, Palmer, this is a private conversation.”
Jimmy blinked in terror as two pairs of angry eyes turned his way. He tried to scurry off quickly but in his haste the wheels of the gurney got jammed against the frame of the front door. Frantically he shoved the gurney again and again, trying to get the body through the open space.
“S-Sorry, um…I’ll be just a moment,” Jimmy stuttered as he continued to panic and continued to try and force the gurney through the wall instead of the door. He gave a hard push and the body started to slide off the smooth, cold surface. He quickly grabbed the body bag and his knees buckled at the weight of the corpse. “Woops-a-daisy, um… just a second and I’ll be gone.”
It was like watching a farce. Eventually with the body replaced and the gurney repositioned, Jimmy made it through the door.
Gibbs turned and stared at Vance.
Vance stared back.
Mexican stand off time.
Neither wanting to back down.
Gibbs was just about to open his mouth when there was a loud crash and a curse from outside.
Vance raised his eyes skywards and shook his head. He opened his mouth and yelled.
“Mister Palmer, get that damn body out of here!”
“Yes, Sir, sorry Sir.” Jimmy called out sounding breathless.
Gibbs would bet good money that he was manhandling the body again.
When Vance looked his way again the look of anger was replaced by a big grin as he started to laugh.
The fury Gibbs felt dissipated and he couldn’t help but join in; it was the early hours of the morning and he was just too damn tired for drama.
“That boy is a walking disaster.” Vance chuckled.
“You know that DiNozzo calls him ‘The Autopsy Gremlin’.”
“Do I even want to know what he calls me?” Vance snorted.
Gibbs grinned and said slyly, “The Toothpick.”
“Ahhh, that’s where that little gem came from, I should have known,” Vance smiled ruefully. “I’ve got to say I’ve been called a lot worse.”
Gibbs dumped the bag of peas down on the step next to him and shook the condensation from the plastic from his hand; he stared straight at Vance’s face.
“The team owe it to DiNozzo to follow up on this case, Leon, seeing that he can’t right now,” he said calmly, even though his gut took the elevator downwards just thinking about why DiNozzo wouldn’t be able to see this assignment through to the end.
“Jethro,” Vance interjected.
“At least let McGee and Abby process Grey’s computer. Hell, suspend me for a month without pay instead.” Gibbs pleaded and he didn’t do that often or lightly.
Vance sighed.
“Jethro, if you’d let me finish before going postal on me I was trying to tell you that what I knew, but the SecNav didn’t, was the fact that the FBI are taking over the case from here on in as a continuation of operation ‘Ruby Slipper’ and before you say anything I can’t do anything about that. Trust me, I already tried but the involvement of the Senator has turned this into a political time bomb and the FBI have jurisdiction over that.”
Gibbs ran his tongue over his lips feeling more than a little stupid. This case meant a lot to Leon and he should have known he wouldn’t float them down the river on this one.
“It does make sense; they have the manpower and the resources to be able to throw everything at this. It also means that once everything is cleared up here your team can have some downtime. I’ve taken them off rotation for a week to coincide with your suspension and if SecNav doesn’t like it he can shove his complaints where the sun doesn’t shine.” Vance rooted in his pocket and triumphantly pulled out a pick. Unwrapping the paper, he shoved it in the side of his mouth.
“Sorry, it’s been a long night. …” Gibbs said thinking about DiNozzo. He’d yet to fill the team in and he knew they wouldn’t be happy about leaving their colleague alone whilst they went back to Washington. Reports could be done wherever and there were enough junior agents wandering around who could take equipment and evidence boxes back to the yard. “Off rotation, does that mean…”
“It means they can do what the hell they like for a week. Just make sure they fill in their timesheets to say that they’ve been working on cold-cases to keep the bean-counters happy and I’ll turn a blind eye.” Vance winced as he got up and stretched his back and neck. “I really can’t cope with these all-nighters anymore. I’m getting old.”
Gibbs stood up too.
“Thank you, Leon, I mean that.”
“I’m going to head for the hospital and you need to be honest with your team and tell them about DiNozzo, although I suspect that Palmer might have already got the jump on that one for you,” Vance said pointedly as he nodded and walked away.
Gibbs picked up the bag of peas from the step.
This was one conversation he was not looking forward to, but the benefits of acting the bastard boss was that one glare was usually enough to shut down any revolt in the ranks.
~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~
“Mr. DiNozzo? Mr.DiNozzo, are you with us?”
Pain screamed through every part of his body. His head felt like it was being squeezed in a vice and his hands and fingers burned with an intensity that took his breath away.
He could sense many people moving around him, could hear harried voices. Hands touched different his body and he tried to pull away.
Oh God.
He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this bad. He was sure if he were a dog they would have put him down and that pain told him this was no dream.
“Mr. DiNozzo.”
The annoying voice was back.
“We are just going to administer the anesthetic. I know it’s all a bit scary now but we’ll soon get you fixed up.”
Great, the one thing he hated more than being woken up to be told that they were going to put you to sleep was the tone of voice some doctors used when you were in the ER. He wasn’t five so why the hell was this guy speaking to him as if he was.
Was he scared?
No. Scared was staring down the barrel of a Sig Sauer, scary was running out of a building as a timer counted down from five to four seconds, scary was tonguing a post op transsexual without knowing whilst he/she fondled your fun-zone. Nope, someone injecting a bunch of drugs into the back of your hand was not remotely scary.
So what if he couldn’t quite remember why he needed surgery, he didn’t much care because artificial oblivion sounded really, really good right now even if it meant getting cut open to achieve it. Pretty much every part of his body pulsated with a red-hot agony and he was definitely up for being pumped full of tranquilizers and anesthetics if it meant he no longer felt like he was being attacked by fire ants.
“Can you hear me, Mr. DiNozzo?”
‘Yeah, stop shouting and leave me the fuck alone’ his brain screamed as someone peeled his eyelids up and a blinding light pierced through each of his retinas in turn.
“He’s still unresponsive, people, let’s get him under and get rid of this clot,” a voice called.
Hey, he was responding, it wasn’t his fault that they couldn’t read his mind.
Tony felt a strange warm feeling swiftly traveling up his arm and everything started to get a little more freaky and fuzzy around the edges. He swallowed hard as he was turned on his side and everything faded.
~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Gibbs hunkered further down on one of the cracked brown leatherette chairs that lined the hospital waiting room and wrapped his arms around his chest.
He may have been tired but he was still to wired to sleep.
McGee and Ziva were sitting opposite him, watching an old documentary on Egypt that dated from the seventies if the lurid winged collared shirt and safari suit combo the narrator wore was any indication. The TV was bolted high on the wall to ensure that all who watched for more than five minutes would need to make an appointment with a chiropractor.
They weren’t the only occupants of the room. A family sat in the far corner, in a desolate knot. Father, mother and maybe a sister but Gibbs suspected girlfriend. She was a pretty brunette, Gibbs watched her as she sat silently crying and wiping her nose on a torn tissue. She was holding an infant close to her chest; the baby was sound asleep, pacifier in mouth, hand clutching a sippy cup.
Gibbs caught the father’s eye. From what he could gather their son had been shipped back from Afghanistan and it didn’t look good. He looked away; not liking the bleakness he saw but suspected was also mirrored in his own eyes.
On the television a curator of a museum somewhere was going into raptures over some Lapis Lazuli urns unearthed from a tomb.
The door to the waiting room opened making the occupants of the rooms look up expectantly.
They all turned their heads to see whom the news was for. The girl clutched the infant just that little bit tighter.
Jimmy Palmer’s face appeared.
“How is he?” Gibbs was on his feet in an instant.
“I don’t really know. Dr. Mallard is talking to the surgeon now but he sent me down to tell you that they’re moving Tony out of recovery and into the critical care unit; there’s no visiting but Dr. Mallard persuaded Tony’s doctor to let you stand by the door for a few minutes as long as you don’t interrupt.”
Gibbs nodded and moved towards the door. He turned when he realized that he wasn’t being followed.
“Well c’mon if you want to see DiNozzo,” he said patiently to the two agents. They both leapt up with twin looks of astonishment on their faces at the unexpected invitation.
He wasn’t that much of a bastard, occasionally he liked to throw them a bone and he figured that this would make up for not being one-hundred percent honest about Tony’s injuries from the beginning.
Palmer led the way and eventually stopped outside a large room; he stepped aside with a flourish. The door was open and the room thrummed with so much activity it was hard to actually see where DiNozzo ended and the medical staff started.
Ducky looked up and quickly finished his conversation with one of the doctors. He walked over and spoke softly to them all.
“You’ll be pleased to hear that Anthony has come through surgery splendidly,” Ducky paused.
“But…” Gibbs responded because this level of activity post -op didn’t bode well as far as he was concerned.
“He is going to be okay?” Ziva swallowed hard, her usual nonchalant demeanor cracked under the pressure of the lack of sleep and worry.
“My dear, he is doing remarkably well under the circumstances.” Ducky reached out and patted her arm.
“What the hell does that mean? Is he going to be okay or not?” Gibbs growled crankily as he looked past Ducky’s shoulder at his agent at where people were attaching machinery and electrodes to every exposed part of DiNozzo’s body. He didn’t like the fact that he was still unconscious either.
“The surgeons successfully removed a clot and repaired the fracture to Anthony’s skull; they also repaired some minor muscle damage to his leg, there was glass embedded in the tissue so the injury corresponds with your initial suspicions that Anthony jumped through the glass patio doors, Jethro.”
Ducky paused again and took in a breath.
“There is concern regarding Anthony’s hands. He sustained third degree congelatio…”
“Frostbite…” McGee muttered, he’d already trolled the Internet for any medical knowledge he thought pertinent regarding what the weather conditions might have thrown at his partner.
“Indeed, you are correct, Timothy.” Ducky looked surprised.
“How bad?” Gibbs asked.
“In extreme cases tissue damage escalates and gangrene can set in. If that happens then I’m afraid amputation may be the only option,” Ducky said solemnly, the implication of what he had just said was clear on his face.
Gibbs shut his eyes briefly; it felt like someone cut the brake cable on his stomach as it plummeted. Tony could kiss goodbye to his career in the field if he lost his fingers. He wouldn’t wish that on anyone but he knew that a disability like that would totally devastate someone like DiNozzo and he knew he wasn’t the only person thinking along the same lines. McGee had inhaled sharply, Ziva tensed and Palmer nervously chewed on his thumbnail.
Gibbs bit his tongue and didn’t comment and they all studiously kept their focus on Ducky as he continued to speak.
“But as I said, in extreme cases only and although there is a concern, Anthony is being monitored very carefully. That was one of the main reasons it took so long to get him into surgery, the team worked hard to minimize the damage and now it’s a matter of waiting.” Ducky said positively but it didn’t help lessen the concern.
“What about any other effects of the hypothermia?” Gibbs looked over to where a doctor was placing a tight oxygen mask over Tony’s face.
“They have started him on a combination of topical antibiotics. His lungs are unfortunately showing signs of congestion already but that is to be expected given his past problems. Again thankfully he received medical attention fairly swiftly and that will hopefully minimize the risk. Unfortunately they need to keep him sedated for now to give the swelling in his brain time to subside and that is not ideal considering the congestion in his lungs but it’s a case of the devil or the deep blue now.”
Ducky looked over his shoulder.
“The next twenty-four hours will be crucial and he’ll be monitored around the clock but he’s a fit young man and let me remind you of Anthony’s unique propensity for worrying us all unduly and coming out the other end with a pithy and often crass pun.”
“You got that right, Duck,” Gibbs snorted. “We’ve been here way too often,”
“I remember Abby saying when Tony ended up in hospital last year that she was going to permanently swathe him in bubble wrap, ” McGee raised a brow. This time she hadn’t joked, in fact she had gone so silent after he’d broken the news that he’d had to call on one of the girls in evidence to go and check on her after the call had ended.
Ducky smiled wearily at the comment.
“That might be prudent as he does seem to have a knack for getting himself in a pickle. What I’m trying to say is although Anthony is not out of the woods yet he has already come a long way and I have every faith that he will continue to improve, so I suggest we all take advantage of the fact that Anthony is sedated and not likely to wake to convene to the hotel for a few hours sleep and let these good people look after our friend.”
Gibbs let out the breath he’d been holding. The news wasn’t good but it could be worse. He clung onto that thought.
“I’m going to stay,” Ziva folded her arms.
“Me too,” Palmer moved next to Ziva in solidarity. McGee nodded in agreement.
Gibbs looked across at Ducky, then back at his team plus one. He had to stifle a smile.
They were like kids waiting to hear if they could stay up late. Well sometimes kids needed the voice of reason from an adult.
“Hotel now. Not much help to DiNozzo if we are all on our knees.”
Gibbs could understand why they wanted to stay but Ducky was right, they all needed to get some proper rest. Across the room the doctors were covering Tony with blankets and injecting drugs into the IV bags hanging above his head. Duck was right. DiNozzo was totally out of it and would be for hours. As much as Gibbs wanted to stay it made sense to grab some rest while they could. He knew Ducky well enough to be able to read the Scot, although he could see concern there but the tight anxiety of a few hours ago had mostly left the ME’s eyes telling him that DiNozzo’s first major hurdle was over.
“Agreed,” Ducky said firmly. “The hotel is less than a ten-minute drive away from here.”
“But…” McGee started.
“If there is any change in Anthony’s condition we can be here in less than five-minutes with Jethro’s driving. We all need some sleep, sitting in an uncomfortable chair in the waiting room for hours will not help our friend any, now will it?” Ducky said calmly.
“No, I am going to stay.” Ziva said firmly.
“Do I need to remind you that you are still on the clock, what I say goes…. hotel…sleep…eat, then we’ll convene back here at thirteen-hundred.” Gibbs narrowed his eyes.
Ziva also narrowed her eyes.
“We may be on the clock but you have been suspended so technically we don’t have to follow your orders,” She smiled slyly.
Gibbs stepped up to the group.
“Do you all really want to play that card, Agent David? Do you?” He stared at his agents. McGee swallowed hard. “Because the last time I looked a week was a real short space of time and before you know it I’ll be back and who knows what delights I’ll find for you and McGee to do around the yard.”
Jimmy moved away from the two agents and stood next to his superior causing Ducky to chuckle.
“Wise move Mr. Palmer.” The ME whispered and patted his back.
Ziva sighed dramatically and unfolded her arms. McGee’s shoulders slumped in defeat.
“Thought you’d see it my way.” Gibbs smiled broadly and slapped both lightly on the back of the head.
“Lets go, the sooner we leave, the sooner we can get back here.”
With one last look at Tony they silently moved away from the door with Ducky ushering them away.
=== === ====== ======= ======= ========= ======
“Where the hell did that come from?”
Tony muttered as he emptied his bedside locker.
Ten days in hospital and the amount of crap he’d accumulated was quite stunning.
Ziva patiently held open a trash sack for him.
“You are a pig, Tony.”
He stuffed used tissues and greetings cards into the bag, along with several rumpled magazines and old apple cores.
“Probie, make sure you get all my stuff out of the bathroom,’ he called out.
“You knew you were being released today so why didn’t you pack your crap before we arrived?” McGee groused from the adjoining bathroom.
“Hey, I’m an invalid, may I remind you about the six-inch scar across the back of my head,” Tony called through the door.
“I think it looks cool!” Abby moved up behind him and stroked the affected area.
“Looks cool! Are you crazy?” Tony pulled his head away from Abby’s petting and ran a hand across the sensitive scar. “They shaved the back of my head!! I’m never going to get lucky looking like this. I mean… I look like Gibbs!”
Tony “Is that right, DiNozzo?” Gibbs swept into the room, coffee cup in hand. “Are you insinuating that I don’t get laid?”
Abby and Ziva both sniggered. McGee’s head appeared around the bathroom door to enjoy Tony’s obvious discomfort.
“Ummm….” Tony winced and turned. “Of course not, Boss. I’m sure you have the ladies lining up around the block to get a piece of Leroy Jethro Gibbs.”
“If you have to rely on your hair to get some action then you’ve been doing it wrong all these years, DiNozzo.” Gibbs smiled broadly and took a slow sip of coffee.
“Well, I like it.” Abby stroked the growing stubble on the back of Tony’s head again. “You feel like a baby mouse.”
“A mouse!” Tony squeaked. “Hey, quit it. I’m a freaking stallion, a stud bull maybe but not a little buck-toothed critter.”
Ziva reached over and ran her fingertips against his skull. “Oh, it is soft. I think it’s more like a mole.”
The door opened and Lesley, the sexy nurse he’d been flirting with for the past week entered. She handed him a bag of meds and fluttered her eyelashes.
“Are your friends comparing you to a small mammal? Because that’s not what you’ve been telling all us ladies, Tony,” She responded.
“Sweetheart, you’ll be pleased to know I definitely have more in common with a stallion than a mouse or mole.” Tony leered.
“Honey, never brag to the person who inserted your catheter.” Nurse Lesley winked.
McGee snorted loudly.
“Hey, I was cold…I had hypothermia remember!” Tony spluttered as he grabbed the paper bag of drugs. He looked around the room. “You know she’s joking, right!”
“Sure she is, DiNozzo.” Gibbs picked off a grape from the fruit bowl that sat on the side and stuffed it in his mouth.
“But…” Tony protested.
“Oh trust me, Honey, you definitely redeemed yourself in that particular department even if you scarred our junior nurses for life. One is refusing to give another bed bath as long as she lives. Tell me, do you always have such a reaction to opiates or should we all be flattered on this floor?” Lesley laughed.
Abby perked up, as did Ziva.
Tony flushed a bright beet red.
“What’s this? Bed baths? Tell us more?” Abby sidled up to the nurse.
“Hey…no…don’t you nurses have to follow the Hippocratic oath or patient confidentiality or something!” Tony yelped.
Lesley very slowly shook her head.
“Nope. Abby, I have that book you wanted in my locker if you care to join me,” The nurse held out her arm and Abby linked her own arm through it. They headed for the door.
Ziva scuttled over.
“I think I may need a walk too,” she gave a pointed look towards Tony and grinned.
“Boss! Say something!” Tony pleaded.
“Ziva…Abs…” He barked as they reached the door.
Tony beamed smugly at the reprimand it quickly vanished when a look of feral mischievousness crossed Gibbs face.
“I want a full Sitrep when you get back.”
=== ==== ========== ========== ============
Tony stretched out on his couch, covered in several thick blankets, care of Muriel, his neighbor.
His meds were laid out with military precision, along with bottles of Gatorade, sodas and enough snacks to feed an army because according to Muriel he had lost weight and ‘was as scraggy as a plucked chicken’ now.
Picking up the first bottle he shook two capsules into his palm, he moved onto the next, then the next, and the next until he had a handful of brightly colored tablets.
Stuffing them into his mouth he winced, they may have looked like Skittles but they sure didn’t taste like them as an acrid bitterness flooded against his tongue. He quickly twisted the cap on a soda and swallowed the tablets down with half the bottle, belching loudly as the bubbles fought back. Putting the soda back down on the table he lay down, pulling a cushion under his head. It was good to be alone. No nurses poking and prodding him, as much as he’d enjoyed flirting with them the constant coming and going in his room had palled after a couple of days and as much as he loved his team he was relieved when they finally returned to work. Now he was home and under strict instructions from Ducky to rest.
Yeah, like that was going to be a problem.
He barely had enough energy to walk to the bathroom and back.
Yawning, he pulled the blankets around his body and curled up as much as he could on the couch.
Sleep hit without him even trying.
When he awoke it was dark and he had a crick in his neck. He sat up and ran his fingers through his hair then spent a good few minutes scratching his hands. They still itched like a bitch, the redness and swelling had lessened as the days had passed but he was still feeling the effects of the frostbite to his fingers. But he couldn’t complain even though the itch drove him nuts because at least he still had all his digits. He still broke out in a sweat thinking about how close he’d come to losing his fingers.
Unfurling himself from the cocoon of blankets twisted around his body he picked up a note that was prominently propped up against his meds.
‘Tony,
Stew warming in the oven, didn’t want to wake you, make sure you take your tablets then eat!
Love
Muriel
xx’
He smiled and went in search of his dinner…. checking his watch he revised that at the lateness of the hour…definitely counted as supper at nine-thirty. Yet again, he’d slept most of the day away. These days he felt like a bear in hibernation, as all he seemed to do was sleep.
He wasn’t really that hungry to be honest but he knew that the formidable Muriel was capable of calling Ducky if he didn’t follow her orders.
Opening the oven he sniffed as the aroma of savory beef wafted up from the covered plate. An old-fashioned oven glove in the shape of a highland cow that sat on the side certainly wasn’t his, but he took advantage, lifted the plate and carefully carried it back to the couch.
One mouthful had him taking the skin off the roof of his mouth. He opened his mouth and sucked and blew air in, to try and cool the molten mouthful before swallowing.
Pushing the stew away to cool he pulled his laptop over in front of him.
He hadn’t checked his mails since he’d been away and he deleted a ton of spam before he started reading the good stuff. There were several mails from Abby even though she must have known he wouldn’t be checking his personal inbox while on assignment, she always did the same, said it made everything ‘normal’ when he wasn’t there. He read them with a smile on his face as he swigged down his next round of tablets.
Then he moved onto the mails from fellow agents at the yard. It was always the same, the system was monitored at work for language and content so when any shit went down then they all moved onto private mail so they could all say what they really wanted to say.
Most were congratulating him on offing Special Agent Acker. The general consensus had been that the guy was a ‘wanker’ and wouldn’t be missed.
He tried to take it as it was intended; cops and people in law enforcement had a gallows sense of humor, joking and being crude about subjects that would leave other people shocked. Hell, he did the same all the time. It helped scare the bogymen away but it didn’t make it any easier.
Killing someone wasn’t something he relished, no matter how much of a bastard they’d been, but he always acted like it was no big deal even though it was because dwelling on it would just drive you over the edge.
Then the mails started to change.
Again, he knew people were trying to be funny but he was really not getting the joke this time.
Several agents had sent him pictures and comments about the assignment.
Women in their twenties dressed up as school kids posing coyly for the camera, twirling pigtails and licking on lollipops. Several agents made comments about his dating habits and the fact that he went out with women younger than himself, and then there were the endless jokes about pedophiles.
He could feel himself getting tenser and tenser as he read.
It really shouldn’t have gotten to him but it did.
He liked and respected the agents who were mailing him. And he knew it was just a case of obviously trying to lighten his mood after such a disturbing op.
It was just that he wasn’t ready to laugh this off as a joke.
Didn’t think he’d ever be able to think of what he’d done or seen as something to laugh about.
His views had changed over the past few months and he knew that he’d never joke about Catholic schoolgirl uniforms again.
It made him sick now.
And the dead girl buried in the woods, fodder for sick perverts, wouldn’t let him see these mails as a joke.
Imee certainly wouldn’t be laughing for a long time after all she’d been through.
He slammed down the lid of his laptop and slumped back against the back of the couch. His stew sat forgotten and congealing on the table in front of him.
He wasn’t remotely hungry now. The tablets and the e-mails had turned the contents of his stomach into a sour mix that was threatening to make a reappearance.
Everything he’d tried to ignore since he’d woken up in hospital was coming to the surface.
All the unpleasantness had been pushed down, and he hadn’t allowed himself to think about it all because there had been too many people around.
Now his brain was in overdrive.
And he didn’t think he could push it all away again.
Not this time.
TBC
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