Chapter 5
Banging her head against the soda machine, Ziva sighed. Nothing was coming out. Nothing about today was right. It was all wrong. Giving it one last slap with her hand, she gave up on the machine and headed back over to her seat. They had been there two hours already and still no word other than 'he's in surgery' from the nurse at the desk. She hated waiting. It made her feel so helpless; a feeling she was not accustomed to.
She sat down just as Gibbs strolled up with two coffee cups in his hands. He sat and handed one off to her. He must have read her need for some caffeine. She mumbled a thanks and began to sip, looking off into the distance, not really looking at much of anything, lost in the jumble of her thoughts and emotions.
“Any word?” He asked
“Nothing.” She replied flatly.
She didn't want to look at Gibbs. She knew he was looking at her, but she just couldn't look back at him. She knew he was analyzing her, reading her feelings and drawing conclusions about her mental state. If anything, Gibbs was the best at reading people. He knew when people were lying, when they were hiding something. His 'gut' was famous in law enforcement circles. All at one time, she admired and hated this facet of her boss.
“How are you doing, Ziva?”
“I am fine.” She lied. She was anything but. Thankfully, Gibbs didn't press the issue, letting the silence settle between them as he pulled another drag from his coffee. It was then that she looked up and noticed Dicky walking towards them.
“Jethro, Ziva....How is our Anthony?”
“Don't know much, Duck. Just that he's in surgery.” Ducky nodded.
“I'll see what I can find out, I have a couple of friends here who might be able to give me a little more information if I explain that I am his personal physician.” Gibbs nodded and Ducky walked off to the nurse's station and asked to borrow the phone. Ziva couldn't hear him from where she sat, but she could make out his expressions as he talked on the phone with his contact. They were not encouraging. Finally hanging up, Ducky moved back over to their position and took a seat next to Gibbs.
“Give it to us in layman's terms, Duck.” Ducky took a deep breath and sighed.
“Well, it appears that Anthony had a bullet lodged between his aorta and his pulmonary vein, but the bullet appears to be moving around as his heart beats and it has begun to push it's way into his pericardium, the membrane that surrounds the heart. Since the bullet is acting like a sort of cork, blood is leaking into the space between the pericardium and the heart, but cannot flow out, pooling inside and putting pressure on the heart, making it difficult for it to beat. However, the cardiologist performing the surgery is one of the best in the area and I have every confidence that he shall be able to remove the bullet and repair the damage. But, I am afraid that in the mean time, Tony's condition is very critical and this surgery is expected to be quite lengthy.... all we can really do is wait.” The older coroner put his hat in his hands, dangling it between his knees as he looked down to the floor.
“Thanks.” Gibbs nodded grimly as he briefly patted his old friend's back, his face a mask, blocking the feelings he might have inside but refused to show to the outside world. Ziva did her best to reign in her own feelings, not allowing any tears to escape as they pooled at the bottom of her eyelids. She got up, not wanting Gibbs to see should she lose control.
Feeling a constriction against her throat, she had to get up and move.
“Excuse me.” She quickly spoke as she stalked off towards the bathroom and made her refuge there. Going to the sink, feeling sick to her stomach, she turned the water on and splashed her face. It did little to stop her internal struggle, but she no longer felt like she was going to breakdown and cry. Taking a long look at her face in the mirror, she took a deep breath and blew it out. Was this face the last thing Tony saw? She wondered. Her troubled expression, the worry etched between her eyes? If only she had ran a little faster, if she had only pulled the trigger half a second sooner, none of this would be happening and they would be back at work, Tony throwing spit wads at McGee and annoying her endlessly, something she had to admit, she liked more than she let on.
Stop it Ziva, he is going to be fine. You are overreacting... Get a grip.
But what did Tony mean to her and how did he feel about her in return anyway? She thought she knew. There were the stares, the exchanged glances, the times when her imagination ran wild and she just wanted to grab him by the hair and ravage his face and body in passion,but did he want the same as she did? Did he imagine her the way she imagined him? She remembered the time, in his anger and frustration, he had told her that he was tired of pretending and she had told him she was too. She knew he had just been blowing off steam, but it had hurt. Did this mean he had feelings for her, but would rather not Or did he mean that he didn't want her to have those unspoken feelings for him? They hadn't spoken about it since, both of them opting to try their best to forget it and move on as though nothing had happened.
Right now however, none of this would matter if he didn't survive. The emotional wounds on her heart ran deep. She had seen people she loved die before her eyes and she had even killed a few, including her own brother, Ari. She knew she would go on if he didn't make it, she had to, she was a soldier and a Mossad officer after all, but sometimes when scars healed over other scars, things could become damaged beyond repair and would never be the same again. If he died, she knew her heart would never be quite as strong as it used to be, it would always have that hole on the inside.
She dried her skin with a paper towel, knowing that Gibbs and Ducky would be concerned if she remained too long in the bathroom. Making her way out again, she walked back to the damned seats that offered little but more waiting and worry. Ducky and Gibbs were discussing the case when she returned, neither man giving her more than a concerned glance, for which she was grateful. She didn't want them worrying about her too.
“Did you get the bullet?” Gibbs asked.
“Yes, I gave it to McGee and Abby should be running the appropriate tests as we speak.” Ducky replied.
“Good.” Was all Gibbs said as he took another sip of coffee.
An hour later and the waiting was starting to become all too much for Ziva and she had taken up pacing up and down the corridor. Gibbs didn't seem to mind and Ducky appeared to be comfortable sitting in the seats with a newspaper. On her last return trip back to the seats, she saw that McGee and Abby had shown up and were hurrying towards Gibbs. She jogged up to find out what was going on.
“They're a Match, boss. The weapon that shot the sailor at the grocery store and Tony are the same weapon.” McGee relayed to Gibbs at little out of breath, who was listening intensely.
“Did you find out who it belongs to Abs?” He asked the dark haired goth.
“Yeah, he wasn't able to completely destroy the serial number, and we traced it down to an anesthesiologist named Dr. Benjamin Jameson. And get this, his wife was reported missing six weeks ago. The FBI and LEO's have been on the case and they suspect he might have killed his wife, but they haven't come up with any evidence that points to him having anything to do with it.”
“So what are we doing here?” Ziva asked. “Should we not go and get him?”
“It's an FBI case, Ziva. I'm sure they'll argue jurisdiction.” McGee figured.
“A sailor and an NCIS agent have been shot with this man's weapon, I don't give a damn about jurisdiction.” Gibbs angrily tossed his coffee cup away and grabbed his coat.
“Where are you going, Boss?” McGee asked
“Gonna see Fornell, then I'm going to find this Doctor.” He said succinctly.
“Actually, Gibbs.” Abby interrupted, wringing her fingers. “We already found him. He works here.”
Gibbs' eyes flashed and he strode purposefully over to the nurses station with McGee, Abby and Ziva in tow, followed a little slower by Ducky.
“Get me Dr. Jameson.” He ordered the nurse. She stood up with her hands on her hips, giving Gibbs a look just as stern as the one he was giving her.
“And who might you be?” She asked. Gibbs whipped out his badge and flashed it towards her. Grudgingly she sat and dialed a number, giving him a dirty look as she listened for a response.
“Hey, Shirley, it's Danielle....Is Dr. Jameson in?....Oh, Okay....Yeah, I know....later?...sure I can get together for drinks, how 'bout we meet at- Hey!” Gibbs clicked the connection on the phone, hanging up for the nurse.
“Where is he?” He demanded. She again scowled at him, pissed by his rudeness and impatience.
“He's in surgery right now, you'll just have to wait until he get's out.”
“Where?”
“Why does it matter? You can't go in there right now anyway, it's expected to be a very long surgery.” Ducky took that opportunity to come up behind Gibbs and place a calming hand on his shoulders, attempting to bring down the man's anger at the nurse. While Gibbs usually got what he wanted through intimidation, Ziva knew that Ducky was just as skilled at getting what he wanted by gathering more flies with honey than with vinegar. Ducky always brought out the best in people with his friendly and gentlemanly ways and people just naturally liked him and wanted to help him should he ask for it.
“Oh, hello Dr. Mallard. Were you with these people?” She asked him sweetly.
“Yes. Danielle, I am.” He smiled at her. “I apologize for my friend here, but we need to know which surgery would Dr. Jameson be in right now?”
“He's in the cardiac tamponade surgery in OR three with Dr. Matthews.” Ducky's smile faded and his face grew extremely concerned and paled a bit.
“Are you absolutely certain of that, my dear?” He asked.
“That's what I was told by his secretary just a moment ago.”
“What is it, Ducky?” Gibbs turned to the older man and Ducky addressed him seriously.
“Dr. Jameson is currently the anesthesiologist performing Tony's surgery.”
OOOOO
Nonna poured coffee into everyone's mugs before pouring some for herself and settling into a seat next to Tony. He took a drink, then reached for some of the sugar and creamer she had placed on the table. She always made her coffee a little too strong for his tastes, but it's familiar bitterness was a comfort to him, reminding him of that time she had taken him in, given him a home when things were so bad with his father that her couldn't stand to be in the same home with the man.
Tony was certain that if it hadn't been for her, his life would have turned out a lot differently and not for the better. She encouraged him to pursue his dreams. From an early age, Tony knew what he wanted to be; a pro basketball player. His father on the other hand, had other ideas for his future, wanting him to study business like he had, poising him take over his business when he decided to retire. Being the stubborn person that Tony was and not in the least bit interested in any aspects of his father's shipping business, he rebelled.
Things had never been very smooth with his father, especially after his mother died when he was in grade school and he left Tony with nannies and servants to be raised, only giving attention to the young boy when he got into trouble or had found some new way to disappoint him.
As a teenager, he fought with his father whenever he could, started fights in school and was failing out of the majority of his classes. By the time he was sixteen, the conflict between the two had boiled over to the point where DiNozzo Sr. was cutting him off from the family fortune and ready to send him to military school to straighten him up. Tony would have none of it and ran away, wandering the streets of Brooklyn until he found himself at Nonna's doorstep.
She took him in, but insisted that he fly right. She wouldn't allow him to play sports, not even his beloved basketball, until he got his grades up and she made sure he stayed out of trouble by seeing to it that he went directly home from school each day.
It had been hard on both of them. He only wanted to play sports, he had no interest in school work. Not that he wasn't smart, Nonna knew better, but he was no scholar and never would be. He was street smart, but she knew that if he wanted to get into college after high school without the aid of his father's money and influence, then he was going to have to improve his grades. She made him study and study hard each day if he wanted to continue his dream to play basketball. Eventually, Tony had raided his grades to the point where was not only passing all of his classes, but had made the honor roll.
It was mainly thanks to her that he made it into Ohio State. He had the talent and the skills to be a great basketball player, but he never would have received even a sports scholarship if he couldn't pass his classes and he never would have thought that he could if she hadn't pulled him up and demanded that he work hard and live up to his potential. She gave him the encouragement he needed and the affection he craved and he loved her for it.
Then she died suddenly of a heart attack his first year at Ohio State. He never got to say goodbye and he never got to tell her what she meant to him. Maybe this was his chance to do that now, but with the addition of Kate and Paula to the mix, he was still uncertain how to go about it and what was he to say to them?
The two women in question looked at Tony expectantly as they drank their coffee.
“So, Tony...” Kate began, putting down her cup “Why are we here?” She asked point blank.
“I don't know, Kate.” He shot back.
“Yes you do. This is your delusion. You just don't want to admit it.”
“What don't I want to admit?” He asked annoyed, taking another sip of his drink, keeping his eyes on her.
“That you have unresolved issues with us, that you can't move on until you've dealt with them.” Kate replied.
“Move on to what?” Did she mean death?
“Ziva.” Paula broke in with eyes penetrating him.
“Ziva?” Tony was taken aback, he wasn't expecting that, but then again, he was.
“Who is this Ziva?” Nonna asked. “Is she a girlfriend of yours, Tony?”
“No, Nonna. She's my partner.” He had to think closely about this, choosing just the right words. “We're friends, but nothing more.”
“Ah...” She said thoughtfully. “But you want more, don't you?” She asked him. He was silent, looking at his coffee mug, watching ripples form on the surface of the black liquid as he turned the cup in circles.
“Maybe.” He finally admitted, looking up at the three women.
“So, what's holding you back?” Kate crossed he arms and asked.
“She's my partner, we work together.”
“Oh, I get it." Kate said pointedly. "This is about Gibbs' damn rules, isn't it? Never date a co-worker, right? Which one is that anyway, rule 11?”
“Number 12.” He corrected.
“Whatever” She sighed. “When are you gonna step out of Gibbs' shadow and start thinking for yourself, Tony?”
“Stop it , Kate. I listen to Gibbs because he's been there and done that. He knows better than anyone what this job entails.”
“And you want to be just like Gibbs? Building a boat in your basement to escape from the loneliness and bitterness in your life because you won't let anyone in?”
“That's not it at all.... Ziva and I have a very dangerous job, you of all people should know that. What if something happens to her, like what happened to you?”
“You mean being like shot in the head by a rogue Mossad double agent bent on revenge?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“So, let me get this straight.” Kate leaned over the table towards him, sharpening her gaze on him. “You don't want to get too involved with Ziva because there's the possibility that she might be hurt or killed and then you'd be left alone again, is that it?”
“Kate...”
“Answer the question, Tony.” She demanded angrily. He was hesitant, looking straight into her fiery eyes, but he decided to give it to her.
“No, Kate...Because.. You don't get it...You can't. You don't know what it's like to be the one left behind. You don't know what it's like to see one of your best friends killed right in front of your eyes and you can't do anything for them.” His voice was raising, his eyes flashing with anger and sorrow as it grew louder , nearing a shout.“You have know idea....I can't do that again.”
“Anthony...” Nonna put a hand on his shoulder and he dropped his head, his eyes fixing on the tabletop.
“Was I really one of your best friends?” She asked quieter, surprised.
“Of course, you were.” He calmed down and sighed before going on. “We may have had our differences, and we might have fought like siblings, but we were partners and I trusted you with my life. You stayed with me when I was sick, even though you could have picked up the plague too... I told you I wasn't scared, but I was terrified and when you kept things normal between us, joking with me, keeping me company, I wasn't as frightened. You have no idea how much that meant to me and I should have told you then.”
Kate gave him a little grin from the corner of her mouth “That's what friends are for. You would have stayed too.”
“Yeah, I would have.” He agreed sincerely.
“You're right, Tony." Paula joined in softly and calmly."You should have told her then. You couldn't have known she was going to be killed so soon after that, but everyone dies, some of us just sooner than others. I remember telling you how I regretted not telling my team what they meant to me before they died and I know you feel the same for not saying anything to me before that bomb went off. Life is too short to waste it being afraid. Don't let fear cast a shadow over your relationships or you'll always be alone. Take a chance” She reached across and took his hand in hers, offering her support. “Because, if you ask me, you're being a stupid, pig-headed fool if don't take the next opportunity you get to tell her how you feel. That is, if you get another one.”
"Paula....." He wanted to tell her how she had been a good friend to him, how he missed her and the flirty and fun sexual tension they had shared. Most of all, he wanted to say he was sorry. He should have dug deeper, maybe they could have uncovered the terrorist's plot that took her life if he hadn't been so distracted by Jeanne and that whole damned affair. Maybe she would still be alive today.
"Tony, don't." She stopped him before he could get started. "It's not your fault. It was my decision that led to my death. Nothing you could have done would have prevented it. It's not your fault, so just let it go. I never blamed you and I never will." She smiled as sweetly as he had ever seen her and he returned it.
He took back his hand and crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair, focusing away from the women at the table as a silence spread out between them. He had a lot to think about, his own mortality for sure, but more immediately, what was he to do if he should live?
Unable to stand the silence any longer, he pushed away from the table and grabbed his coffee cup, taking it back to the kitchen. Placing the mug in the sink, he suddenly had to grab the edges of the basin as the room spun and he was overcome with lightheadedness. His grip on the sink did little to prevent his fall to the floor and as the cold linoleum tile seeped into his back and blackness ensued, he came to the conclusion that this was it. He was dying wasn't he? NO! He didn't want to die. Not yet. He made his decision right then. He would tell her everything, that is, if he ever got the chance.
To Be Continued.....
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