The Road Less Traveled
The drive to Bethesda seemed to take forever. In the back of his mind he registered a steady stream of blaring horns, flashing headlights and cars. Too many cars. They slowed him down, kept him from getting to his wounded agent quickly enough. Agonizing minutes later he burst through the doors of the hospital, and quickly headed towards the ER. Flipping open his phone, he ignored the dismayed glare from a passing nurse, as he walked through the endless hospital corridors.
“Ducky!” he said, as the phone was picked up on the other end. “How is he? Where are you?”
“We’re in the Emergency Room, Jethro, Building 9, at the back.”
“I damn well know which building it’s in, Ducky!” Jethro growled, before ending the call. A couple of minutes later he burst through the doors of the ER, looking around until he found Dr. Mallard.
“Where is he?” he demanded.
“They’re trying to determine how serious his injuries are. He’s undergoing a neurological exam at the moment, and will have a CT scan as soon as the initial exam is concluded. They also need to x-ray his leg and his head, to make sure there’s no head trauma or…”
“Head trauma?” Gibbs interrupted. “Is he still unconscious?”
“Not at the moment, no,” Dr. Mallard reassured him.
“I need to see him,” Gibbs said, moving to walk further into the room, to seek Tony out. He could see a discarded red and white jacket lying in a heap on a chair, realizing that was where Tony was.
“Not, yet, Jethro. Let them do their job, we can see him later.”
“I can’t…” Gibbs started, but was interrupted by a voice behind him, calling him name.
Turning around, he came face to face with Ziva. “What the hell are you doing here?” Gibbs yelled, the moment he saw her.
She stuck her chin out defiantly. “McGee’s handling the booking. I wanted to make sure Tony was ok. We’re letting the perps stew for a while, anyway, before we interview them.”
Gibbs got into her personal space and spoke very clearly and quietly. “I expect you to follow orders, Ziva. If I can’t trust you, you’re off my team. You got that? Tony’s my responsibility, not yours.”
Ziva looked as if he’d struck her. “You can’t…”
“I can’t what, Ziva? Tell you what to do?” he yelled. “I sure as hell can,” he growled. Gibbs dimly registered people turning to look at them, but couldn’t care less right now.
“Jethro!” A strong hand on his arm had him turn around. “Come with me,” Ducky said firmly.
Gibbs opened his mouth to protest, but recognizing the look in his friend’s eyes, he conceded, with a sigh.
“Don’t tell me how to run my team, Ducky,” he began, “just don’t.”
“What has gotten into to you, Jethro, I haven’t seen you this agitated since…” he broke off, as if he suddenly realized something.
“Since what, Ducky?” Jethro growled impatiently.
“I’m sorry, my friend, I should have grasped this earlier,” Dr. Mallard said absentmindedly. “You deal with Ziva, and I’ll get an update on Tony’s condition.”
Gibbs felt relieved. He knew he was missing a couple of clues, but then again, Ducky’s ramblings often didn’t make much sense to him.
Ziva was waiting by the entrance, arms crossed over her chest. She had an unreadable expression on her face. He assumed she was pissed as hell, but right now he wasn’t interested in considering her feelings.
“Why are you still here,” he asked tersely the moment he reached her.
“I told you why,” she replied, her eyes flashing angrily. “I want to know what’s happening to Tony.”
“There’s no news yet, Ziva. Get back to the yard.” Gibbs turned around and went in search of Ducky again. He found him talking to a man who introduced himself as Dr. Thomas Selleck.
“We’re just about ready to take Agent DiNozzo up for a CT scan,” the doctor explained.
“Boss,” a voice behind him croaked.
“Hey, Tony,” Gibbs said, “I just spoke to Dr. Selleck. They will examine your head, make sure you don’t have any internal injuries.”
“Yeah, how cool is that?” Tony replied, “I’m being treated by Dr. Selleck. Last time it was Dr. Pitt, and this time it’s Magnum!” He giggled, and Gibbs got worried.
“Hey, Doc, he’s not making much sense.”
“What happened?” Dr. Selleck asked, as he flipped out a small penlight, and shone it into Tony’s eyes.
“He’s talking about being treated by Magnum, and something about when he was here with the Y Pestis?” To his surprise, the doctor just smiled.
“Ah, another Magnum PI fan,” he sighed. “I get a lot of that.” He noticed the frown on Gibbs’ face and explained, “Magnum was played by Tom Selleck. No relation,” he added. “And no moustache.”
“So he’s not delirious,” Gibbs clarified, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease up a fraction.
“No, he’s not,” the doctor assured him before they wheeled Tony towards the elevators.
As the gurney rolled past him, Tony’s arm shot out and grabbed Gibbs’ hand. “Will you be here when I get back?”
When he nodded, Tony let go and closed his eyes, looking at peace as he was taken away.
Dr. Mallard returned a few minutes later, handing Gibbs a cup of coffee. “You look like you need it,” he remarked.
“Yeah, I do. What a mess,” he declared, sipping carefully. He felt like pacing, but made a conscious effort to remain calm.
“Tony will be gone for a while, why don’t we find the cafeteria and have a bite to eat?” the older man suggested.
“Not hungry,” Gibbs grunted, reluctant to leave the ER.
“Well, I am. Indulge an old man, won’t you? Tony is in good hands, Jethro, and since I assume you will be spending the night here, we need to prepare for that. My father’s cousin Iain used to say that half the journey was done before the trip itself. Think ahead, he would say, always leave room for the unexpected. One year, he was hiking in the Central Highlands…”
Lifting his hands in mock surrender, Gibbs let himself be guided down into the dining hall in the basement of the building. The line wasn’t too long, and soon they each had a tray of warm food. He didn’t have much of an appetite, but he knew Ducky wouldn’t let this go. They sat down in a quiet corner, both tucking into their stew/hamburger. Gibbs eyed the vegetables suspiciously; he’d never been a fan of overcooked peas and carrots.
He glanced at Ducky and found his friend looking at him, worry and concern etched into his features.
“He will be ok, you know, Ducky,” Gibbs said quietly. “Tony’s a fighter, he’ll pull through this. If he’s remembering Magnum, they can’t have kicked him too hard in the head,” he said, trying to lighten the mood.
“Actually, I am worried about you, Jethro,” Ducky replied, to Gibbs’ surprise.
“I’m not the one you should be concerned about, Ducky,” Gibbs said firmly.
“You don’t usually react like this when one of your team is injured, not even Tony.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Gibbs shook his head. “I yelled at him, Ducky, when he called me the first time. I thought he was sneaking off with another woman.” Gibbs looked down at his food, pushing the offending peas around on his plate. “I immediately thought he was slacking off, and I guess I feel bad about that,” he admitted.
“Mmm,” Ducky replied, not looking entirely convinced. “Young Anthony has done so in the past,” he agreed, “I think we all remember the pretty blonde Ari used for bait. I was not aware, however, that he has pulled a stunt like that in a long time.”
”He’s been distracted,” Gibbs defended himself. “Coming in late a few times, shutting me out.”
“Interesting,” Dr. Mallard nodded. “I still don’t understand…”
“There’s nothing to understand, Ducky, or analyze. Tony was in danger, and I wasted valuable time yelling at him.”
“You came through, Jethro. You got there in time. They could have…”
“Yeah, let’s not go there, Ducky,” Gibbs interrupted. “So, what happened to your cousin Iain?” he went on, eager to change the topic.
“Who? Ah, I’m afraid I made that up. He was my cousin, well, more like an uncle, really, since he was my father’s cousin. Iain was considerably older than me, but I adored him as a child. He used to come up every summer, taught me how to play poker and bridge.”
“Hang on, made what up?” Gibbs asked, finally catching up with the doctor’s tale.
“Ah, yes. I assumed, correctly if I may say, that if you had to choose between a meal and one of my rambling stories, food would win out.”
Gibbs laughed out loud. “You’ve got a devious mind, Duck. But,” he said, lifting up a hand when he saw the doctor was about to protest, “you’re a good friend, thanks.”
They finished their meal in silence.
“So, what lies ahead for Tony?” Gibbs asked, as they were nursing their second cup of hospital coffee an hour later.
“It will depend on the extent of his injuries, as you well know. I’m sure they are going to keep him in for observation for a 24 hr period. Why don’t we just wait and see until they bring him back?” he suggested, glancing at his wrist watch. “Why don’t you check in with McGee, Jethro, while I find out which room Anthony will be in.”
Gibbs looked at Ducky’s retreating back, then fished out his cell and called McGee. The phone rang a few times before he picked up.
“Sorry, Boss. Had to get out of interrogation bef...”
“What’ve you got, McGee?” Gibbs interrupted, impatience mounting inside him.
“Not much yet, Boss. It appears they thought Tony was after information about their operation. One of them is a known drug dealer, has a few convictions for assault. Metro has tried to get a case against him for drugs, but he’s slipped through the net, so far. It seems to be a case of mistaken identity, Boss.” He paused. “We did pick up Tony’s signal close to one of Henderson’s known locations, he might have been doing some investigation on his own,” McGee suggested carefully.
“Damn it,” Gibbs cursed “I’ll kick his ass as soon as he gets out of the hospital,” he muttered.
“How is Tony, any news, Boss?” McGee asked.
“Don’t know yet,” Gibbs replied. “I’ll call as soon as I know more,” he promised. “Good job, McGee.”
“Actually, it was Ziva who got them talking. She can be very…uhm…persuasive,” McGee said. “I’m not sure I’ve seen Ziva this…uh…determined since the Murray murder.”
Gibbs nodded to himself, remembering the murder/mutilation case they had solved a year earlier.
“I need a favor, McGee. There’s an overnight bag in my car. Bring it over later, I’m staying the night.”
“Will do, Boss.”
Gibbs ended the call. He rubbed his hand wearily over his face before going in search of Dr. Mallard. Maybe there was news about Tony, maybe he would get to see him, make sure he was ok.
Gibbs went back upstairs, to the ER. He wasn’t sure where Ducky had gone, but the information desk should provide Gibbs with the details he needed. Walking through the ER, he couldn’t see Dr. Mallard anywhere, but Gibbs knew he would be back as soon as he had something.
Still, he couldn’t just sit and wait. He had to do something, anything, to alleviate the sinking feeling in his stomach. He’d failed Tony. Why hadn’t he picked up on the fact that Tony was running an undercover op on his own? “God damn it,” he muttered, slamming his hand into the wall as a surge of anger flared up inside him. A passing doctor stopped and he smiled reassuringly, before going in search of the information desk.
Ten minutes later he was running through a corridor, checking the numbers on the doors as he passed them. He wasn’t sure whether Tony was there yet, it depended on the results of the x-rays. Room 209, he was getting close. He slowed down and stepped up to 215. The door was ajar and he spotted an empty bed inside. No Tony. Disappointed, he walked inside and found Ducky gazing out the window.
“Jethro!” he exclaimed, “I was just about to call you. Any news from McGee?”
“It was probably a case of mistaken identity. They thought Tony was spying on them, gathering information for a rivaling drug operation. I’ll kick his ass to kingdom come for this,” he growled.
“Yes, well, I’m afraid that particular type of corporal punishment will have to wait for a while, Jethro,” Dr. Mallard admonished. “The preliminary results of the test suggest no serious head trauma, although he does have a severe concussion. No head slaps, either, Jethro, should that urge arise.”
“I’m not a total idiot, Ducky,” Gibbs muttered.
“Yes, well, that remains to be seen,” the doctor said, cocking an eyebrow as he held Gibbs’ eyes.
“Oh, for crying out loud,” Gibbs sighed. “Fine, Ducky. I promise not to lay a hand on Tony, how’s that?”
“What, no headslaps?”
Gibbs turned around, and found himself looking at a very pale Tony. “Well, no headslaps for now, DiNozzo. Come next week all bets are off,” he grumbled, but couldn’t quite keep a smile off his face. Gibbs hadn’t realized how tense he’s been until he felt his stomach unclench a bit at the sight of his second in command. Alive, breathing, even trying to crack a joke.
Gibbs turned to the doctor that accompanied Tony as the nurses got him settled, hooking up to the various machines that were monitoring his condition. Gibbs wasn’t sure what half of it was, but it didn’t matter, all that mattered was that Tony was fine.
“I’m Special Agent Gibbs, Agent DiNozzo’s boss at NCIS”
The doctor shook his hand, and introduced himself, “Dr. Weir.” He glanced at his charts and continued.
“As far as we have been able to ascertain, there is no sub-cranial bleeding or trauma. Normally, we’d keep him in the ER for a few hours, but we’re unusually busy today, which is why he’s transferred to the medical ward. We’d like to keep him here for observation, at least for another day. The x-rays confirmed he has a broken fibula. It was a clean break, and his leg is set and in a cast. He will be out of commission for a while, although he’s already nagging the nurses about an early release. Something about a boss that will be on his case if he’s not back on duty tomorrow.”
Gibbs snorted. “That would be me. Believe me, he won’t see the inside of the bullpen for a very long time.”
“Bullpen?”
“Our squad room at NCIS,” he clarified.
“The leg injury will keep him from active duty for a while, but he can be back on desk duty in a couple of weeks. He’s got a serious concussion, Agent Gibbs, and will need rest to ensure that complications won’t occur.”
“I’ll make sure of that,” Gibbs said grimly, turning to look at Tony’s pale form. There was no way in hell he’d let Tony back at NCIS for at least that amount of time, no matter how much he begged. Tony met his gaze and managed a weak smile before he closed them again.
******
The room was quiet, apart from the faint sounds from the hallway. Tony was asleep, resting peacefully. The afternoon seemed to have passed in a blur. Between all the nurses, the tests and the checkups, there had been no time for Gibbs to talk to Tony. He got up and walked to the bathroom, needing to wash up for the evening. McGee and Ziva had been by with his overnight bag. They’d stayed a couple of minutes with Tony, both clearly needing to assure themselves he was ok. Ziva still looked upset, but he had no time for her ruffled feathers. Abby had been strangely subdued. He’d promised to call her if Tony’s condition changed. After an hour by his side, she’d finally gone home, but not before promising to be back in the morning. She’d left Bert by Tony’s side, resting his injured hand on the soft toy.
Ducky had remained behind, offering to sit with Tony through the night. Gibbs had flatly refused, urging the older man to go home and rest. “He’ll need us in the coming week, Ducky. I’m sure he’ll persuade the docs here to spring him into your care. I’m gonna need you to stop by the house, make sure he’s recovering as he should.”
“You’re taking him home?” Dr. Mallard had asked,
“Of course I’m taking him home,” Gibbs had retorted, “I’m not sleeping on that lumpy old couch of his!”
“Are you sure you’re the best choice, Jethro? You’ve not been in the best of moods today, even for you. Anthony needs rest, and not to be subjected to your particular brand of…uh… care.”
Gibbs had snorted, “Ya think, Ducky? I might be a bastard, but I’m not that big of a bastard. I want to keep an eye on him, and he can have the den. He won’t have to climb the stairs every day. I’ll even have McGee set up his TV in there, when he’s well enough to watch it.”
Ducky had still seemed doubtful, but Gibbs had been adamant. The subject was closed. Before Dr. Mallard had left for the evening, he’d managed to arrange for a bed for Gibbs. Although he’d thought it was excessive at the time, right now he was grateful for the opportunity to stretch his legs, to lie down and have some rest. He wasn’t sure he would be able to sleep, there were too many thoughts swirling around in his head, each too fleeting to grasp.
In the end, he’d settled for watching Tony’s still form. The light was turned down low, to give Tony a chance to rest. He felt himself calm down as he listened to Tony’s steady breathing. After a while he turned onto his back, and lay gazing at the ceiling when he heard Tony move.
“You stayed,” he said quietly.
“Mhm,” Gibbs replied, too tired to say much.
“I’m sorry,” Tony went on, “I should have…”
“Yeah, ya should have,” Gibbs interrupted. “Let it go, Tony. You need to rest.”
Tony didn’t reply, just turned his head slowly and looked at Gibbs. “When are you leaving?”
“I’m not going anywhere, Tony. Try and get some sleep, Tony, we’ll talk in the morning.”
There was a long pause, and Gibbs looked up to see if Tony had fallen asleep. He found him still looking troubled. “DiNozzo!” he grumbled, “Get some shuteye, will ya?!?”
“Yes, Boss…”
Soon after the room fell quiet again, as both men drifted off.
Chapter End Notes:
Disclaimer: These characters belong to DPB, CBS, Paramount, et al. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's note: The story is partly based on a prompt by mrsdinozzo. Hugs and thanks to tutncleo for being a sounding board and a beta!
Author's note: The story is partly based on a prompt by mrsdinozzo. Hugs and thanks to tutncleo for being a sounding board and a beta!