Tony rolled over in his bed at Gibbs' house, the soft green crocheted blanket rustling against his chin, suddenly aware of his bladder. Shouldn't drink water right before bed, he thought, running a hand over his face and squinting at the clock. 3:17 AM. Way too early, especially for a Saturday.
He stayed still for a moment, trying to gauge if he should just roll back over and go to sleep or give in to his bladder. Just as he threw the covers back with a sigh, yawning and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he froze, just barely keeping himself from crying out. His hands flew to his left leg and held on tight, eyes squeezed shut in pain. His heart began to pound, and a choked groan escaped his lips.
Suddenly it was as if he had a cramp in his leg, only a cramp that was a hundred times worse than any cramp he'd ever had. The muscles in his leg twitched and spasmed beneath his hand, and he felt sweat break out on his brow. This was agony. He bit his lip to keep from crying out, and he felt tears trickle out of his closed eyes.
Just as he was about to call out for Gibbs, the pain abruptly stopped, and he opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling, panting and reeling and still holding onto his leg. Jesus. He turned his head and looked at the clock again, blinking tears out of his eyes to read the time. 3:18 AM.
His chest heaved rapidly as he tried to catch his breath, his heart still pounding even as the adrenaline from the moment before left him. His hands rubbed against his thigh and he swallowed thickly. He still had to use the bathroom, so he tried to slow his breathing as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, his hands pushing his still tingling left leg down alongside his right.
For a moment, he just sat on the edge of his bed, unsure of what to do, breath still coming in shallow pants. Surely, Gibbs would want to know what just happened-but it was 3:19 AM. He ran a weary hand over his face, trying to ignore his still-pounding heart. Might as well hit the head, he thought, deciding to start with his most immediate needs. He pushed himself up to standing, but immediately fell back down on the bed with a wince when his leg seemed to want nothing to do with actually helping to support the rest of his body.
He tried again, this time standing up more slowly and keeping a hand on the bed until the last possible moment. He limped his way into the bathroom, grabbing onto every possible surface for help, and went about his business, leaning heavily on the sink after washing his hands and staring into the mirror for a moment. He brought a shaking hand up to rub his eyes, his mouth dry, and he finally swallowed determinedly and decided to just go back to bed, pretend this didn't happen, and maybe tell Gibbs tomorrow. No need to wake the man up over a cramp.
But when he opened the door and a tired but worried Gibbs was on the other side of it, he nearly fell backwards with shock until Gibbs reached out and steadied him.
"You alright, DiNozzo? Thought I heard you limping," Gibbs said, looking at him shrewdly and keeping a steady hold on Tony's arms.
"Yeah, Boss, why wouldn't I be? You never had to piss in the middle of the night?" he replied, flashing Gibbs a wide grin that he hoped reached his eyes.
Gibbs let go of him cautiously, and Tony automatically reached for the sink again when his left leg started to buckle.
"Hey," Gibbs said, grabbing onto him once more. "What's going on?"
Tony swallowed, his throat suddenly dry as sandpaper. "I don't know," he said, and was dismayed to hear his voice come out as a croak. His hands were shaking again in their hold against the sink, and Gibbs stepped closer and held him up, one arm around his waist and the other holding onto his arm.
"I woke up and my leg just," Tony paused to swallow, squeezing his eyes shut as his leg twitched again, "it just, it was like a really bad cramp," he said, "or a spasm," he added, his heart beating fast again. Even though the sudden spasming was gone, it still hurt, and his leg tingled like it was asleep. "Gibbs," Tony said, eyes still closed, head dropping forwards. "Gibbs, this-"
"Come on," Gibbs said, "we're going to the hospital." He tightened the arm around Tony's waist and pulled him away from the sink a bit, watching him intently the whole time, eyes roaming over Tony's pinched brow, thinly set lips, and squeezed-shut eyes.
"Hey, Tony, c'mon," Gibbs said, his voice soft. His hand rubbed soothingly against Tony's side, and Tony nodded, letting out a whoosh of air before opening his eyes and carefully letting go of the sink, relieved when he didn't fall flat onto the ground.
Tony limped his way back to the guest room with a lot of help from Gibbs, where he sat heavily on the bed while Gibbs fished around for a pair of sweatpants and socks. As soon as Gibbs tossed them his way, he pulled them on with shaking hands, first his right sock, then his left. As he pulled up his left sock, though, he froze, and stared at his leg in alarm.
"What?" Gibbs asked, kneeling down and looking at Tony's leg. Tony didn't reply; instead, he snapped the top of his sock against his calf, and then swallowed, reflexively reaching out and grabbing Gibbs' shoulder.
"Gibbs," he said, his eyes wide and unfocused. He used his free hand to tap along his leg, up his calf, against his knee, all along his thigh. "Gibbs, this is not-this-"
Gibbs looked up at Tony, his brow furrowed in worry. "What's going on?" he asked, his voice urgent.
"My leg feels wrong," Tony said, his voice breathy and uncharacteristically scared. His hand shook on Gibbs' shoulder, and he anxiously twisted his fingers into the fabric of Gibbs' t-shirt, holding on tightly.
"Wrong how?" Gibbs asked, his voice flooded with intensity, resting one hand on Tony's right knee, rubbing his thumb along the skin in a soothing manner that belied the tension in the rigid set of his shoulders and the sharp crease of his brow.
"It's all tingly," Tony said, "and I can't-I can hardly feel it," he said, the words coming out in a rush. "Gibbs, what's happening to me?" he asked, all of the worry of the past week building up in the pit of his stomach. His knuckles were white where he clutched at Gibbs' t-shirt, and his breathing was speeding up again.
"Hey," Gibbs said, reaching up and grabbing the sweatpants he'd tossed to him earlier. "We're gonna get these pants on and go to the hospital," he said, reaching down and pulling the pants up over Tony's feet before grabbing Tony's discarded sneakers from the floor beside him, urging his feet in and tying the laces. He pulled the pants up until the waistband was just above Tony's knees, and thought it was testament to Tony's state of mind that he didn't even move to intercept him or try to do it himself, just sat with one hand on his left leg, poking and prodding, the other twisted into the fabric of Gibbs' shirt.
Gibbs reached up to his shoulder and gently pried Tony's hand away from where it still clutched his shirt, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting it go and standing up.
"I'm gonna help you stand up, DiNozzo," he told Tony, "and you're gonna pull your pants up."
Tony nodded, and Gibbs put his hands under Tony's armpits and tugged as Tony stood up. Gibbs kept him steady, and Tony did as he was told and pulled his sweatpants up.
"This how you treat all your dates?" Tony asked, trying miserably for his usual humor and falling just a bit short as his leg faltered and he leaned forward to wrap his arms around Gibbs' waist, too nervous to feel embarrassed.
Gibbs snorted. "C'mon," he said, letting Tony stay flush aganst him for a moment and giving him a gentle squeeze before turning and adjusting his hold on Tony so that his arm was around his back, helping him move out of the bedroom. "We're going to the hospital." Gibbs deftly grabbed Tony's wallet off the nightstand before they left, and dropped it into his pocket on the way out.
Tony was slow on his feet, and he leaned heavily on Gibbs as they walked. His left leg, suddenly rendered weak and unreliable, moved sluggishly, and so the short walk to the car felt like miles to Tony. Dropping down into the seat once they got to the car was heavenly.
It didn't come as a surprise to Tony that Gibbs drove at top-speed to the hospital, jaw set and eyes staring straight ahead in determination. Tony allowed his head to lean back against the seat and gripped the armrest of his door tightly, closing his eyes while his mind spun in circles that wouldn't slow. Gibbs didn't speak, and Tony was thankful, because he wasn't sure he could handle a conversation. So many thoughts and questions were popping up in his mind, but he couldn't bring himself to voice any because he knew that once he started he wouldn't be able to stop. Normally, he chattered incessantly when he was nervous, cracking terrible jokes and quoting movies and being generally obnoxious (he wasn't in denial about everything in his life, after all), but this time, he just didn't have it in him because he wasn't merely nervous. He was terrified.
Losing his eyesight had been frightening enough, but he could chalk it up to being a one-time occurrence; some kind of freak symptom that came out of nowhere - even if Gibbs would tell him he was lying to himself. Taking steroids everyday, and feeling dizzy and unbalanced and exhausted the majority of the time afterward - that was more than frightening enough. However, he could always hold onto the hope that the steroids would finally kick in enough for the dizziness to stop. Now, though, he could barely feel his leg, something he used all the time, and he was still dizzy and unbalanced, and his eyesight still wasn't back to 20/10 even though he'd been taking steroids all week.
"DiNozzo," Gibbs said sharply as he took a corner much wider than he should have. "Breathe."
Tony suddenly realized he'd been holding his breath, and let it out in an exhale that brought with it a release of tension he'd been holding in his shoulders, and his grip on the armrest relaxed a little. "On it," he said, voice rough, trying to pay special attention to the breath going in and out of his lungs, hoping maybe it would help him calm down.
"What-" Tony paused to swallow thickly and take a quick breath. "What movie is like this?" he asked, marveling at the lack of movie comparisons popping up in his mind, wondering if maybe he could think of one and ease his panic.
"You're asking me?" Gibbs said, and Tony's grip on the armrest tightened again when he heard (no way was he opening his eyes when Gibbs was driving like this) Gibbs' tires squeal.
"Can't think of one," Tony said, his free hand tapping incessantly and unfeelingly against his left leg.
"Guess it's not that simple," Gibbs said, and his voice from days before rang clear in Tony's head - It's okay to be scared - and Tony rubbed a hand over his face in exhaustion and worry.
"Boss, what was the last movie you saw in the theater?" Tony asked, seeking distraction as his fingers wound themselves into the hem of his t-shirt at his waist, sticking out from beneath the seat belt.
Gibbs grunted, and Tony opened his eyes and turned to watch him, the streetlights casting fleeting shapes of light over his determined features that twisted and danced as he drove.
After a very long silence, in which Tony was about to repeat the question in case Gibbs didn't hear, Gibbs finally spoke. "Titanic," Gibbs said, his voice low and threatening. "Don't ask."
"Titanic?" Tony said, fingers stilling in the fabric of his t-shirt. "Titanic?" he repeated incredulously. "Boss, are you-Titanic?" Tony couldn't help it; the stress of the night, the clock on the dashboard that read 3:32, the lights and shadows flickering over Gibbs face-all of it paled when he imagined Gibbs sitting in a movie theater, looking pissed and impatient, watching Titanic-he began to chuckle, and suddenly he felt light-headed and surreal, and the panic gave way to laughter and he rubbed his eyes wearily as outright giggles consumed him. His emotions were all over the place, he knew that much, but he would much rather laugh than any of the very un-manly alternatives. And when a passing streetlight illuminated Gibbs' face for just a split second, the slight upturn of Gibbs' lips made his heart lift for just a moment and he thought, desperately-we'll get through this.
--
It was only 8:00 AM, and already, Tony had been poked and prodded with needles, given neurological exams (which after the weekend before, he felt so familiar with he was pretty sure he could administer them himself), and had another MRI. He'd been admitted to the hospital upon entrance to the ER due to his history, and already, another spinal tap was scheduled before the morning was over.
He just wanted to curl up and sleep, but unfortunately, that was not an option. Gibbs was mainlining watered down hospital coffee, and Tony wished desperately for some, but he knew that was also not an option.
"Don't think they should've put me in the bed, Boss," Tony said, fighting hard to keep his eyes open from where he lay in his hospital room.
"Why's that?" Gibbs asked, leaning forward in the chair next to Tony's bed.
"Wanna sleep," Tony said tiredly. He didn't even think he had the energy to lift his hand and scratch the itch on the very tip of his nose, so instead, he settled for scrunching his nose up, which didn't work at all, and he sighed, his eyes drifting closed.
"So rest," Gibbs said, resisting the urge to reach out and smooth Tony's hair back from his forehead.
"They said I hadda eat breakfast," Tony said, his words accompanied by a yawn.
"I'll wake you up when it gets here," Gibbs said, his voice gentle. "Sleep."
"On it," Tony murmured breathily as his facial muscles relaxed into sleep.
Gibbs sighed, running a hand over his face-he was exhausted, too, but all of the coffee he'd been drinking that morning to keep up with Tony's tests was taking its toll, and his body felt strangely awake and jittery while his mind wanted nothing more than to shut off.
Unfortunately, though, his mind was very awake. His eyes roamed over Tony's figure - did he lose weight?- and he swallowed thickly. Somewhere along the line, Tony's role in Gibbs' life had shifted. The moment Tony first walked into NCIS, cocky and yet somehow, at the same time, endearingly humble, Gibbs knew that he would last. He could tell that Tony was strong, that he could put up with Gibbs' sometimes-abrasive personality and follow orders while still contributing to the team and building confidence.
Yet, he never could have predicted just how easily Tony would work his way under his skin. Gibbs cared about his team - no one could doubt that - but he wasn't sure if he would so readily give his home and time to McGee or Ziva. Sure, he would help them and do all he could, and when it boiled down to it, his guest room would be open to them, too, but it wouldn't be as easy or natural as it was with Tony. It scared him how much he wanted - needed - Tony to stay in his home, where he could watch over him and help him through this ordeal. Maybe it was because Tony was like him - solitary - but he didn't think that was quite it.
Having Tony in his home just felt right in a way Gibbs hadn't felt in a long time. Not since Shannon, a small voice whispered in his mind, and he swallowed thickly, running a hand through his short hair. Tony understood Gibbs in a way few people did. He could read his half shrugs easily, and every twitch of his facial muscles, unnoticed by others, spoke volumes to Tony. Gibbs was a man of few words, and Tony understood that because he didn't need the words-and Gibbs didn't need them either. He could see through Tony's bullshit easily, and he could see through the bravado of a fancy suit and the posture of confidence that was sometimes just a little too rigid.
And so, Gibbs was left sitting in a hospital chair, body humming with caffeine, staring at Tony's sleeping form through cautious eyes. Gibbs had not had an easy life so far. Nearly everyone in his life who had meant something to him had been taken away-and not just Shannon and Kelly. There had been friends in the Corps, blown away in combat, and fellow agents, taken out in busts gone terribly wrong. Then there had been the times where Gibbs couldn't really blame anyone but himself; ex-wives he'd driven away, relatives he'd ignored.
And now, the few people he had, he liked to keep close. His team, Ducky, Abby, even Palmer-they were his people now. And somehow, even though he'd known Ducky for ages, and Abby a long time herself, Tony had worked his way to the top of his list.
Gibbs was always the strong one - the one who wouldn't show any sign of weakness, who never took no for an answer, who pushed and pushed and pushed until he finally got what he wanted. And yet, sitting there in the sticky vinyl chair of the hospital, watching Tony sleep, having no idea whatsoever what was wrong with him-it was terrifying.
He knew he could stay strong for Tony. He had no doubt in his mind of that. But in times like these, times where his whole being felt off from being awake for odd hours, filled with nervous energy and adrenaline and fear, knowing that this was a situation in which he was completely helpless, he couldn't help but wonder if his strength would be enough; if this time he would be able to pull Tony through.
Because sitting there watching Tony sleep, wondering what the hell was going on with his body that would leave him first sightless then without sensations in his leg, he couldn't help but realize how much he needed Tony, the one he trusted most to have his six, the one he trusted most to balance out his team and keep the atmosphere where it should be, the one he thought of when he had an extra steak to throw on the grill, the one he thought of lying in bed, unable to sleep, when he'd had a particularly rough day-
And suddenly, Gibbs was filled with a familiar determination, and he felt calm descend over him. That was a feeling he could work with, that was a drive that would give him the strength he needed, because suddenly he realized that he wasn't helpless-he could (and would) be there for Tony. He would be there every step of the way, and even for the steps after that.
Tony was his.
And no sickness, or disease, or whatever the hell was consuming Tony's body would get in the way of that, Gibbs would make sure of it. So, with his shoulders squared and his back straight, Gibbs stood and made his way out of Tony's room.
(First, he'd need some more coffee.)
--
True to his word, Gibbs woke Tony when the breakfast tray arrived in his room. Luckily, it arrived late enough that it afforded Tony a nice hour-long nap, but Tony still woke up looking exhausted and fighting to keep his eyes open.
"Hey Gibbs," he said sleepily as he pushed his bed into a seated position. "You're still here?"
"Said I'd be here," Gibbs said with a grunt of annoyance, "so where else would I be?"
Tony yawned and regarded his breakfast tray with unamused eyes, ignoring Gibbs' response for the moment. "What the hell is this?" he asked, picking up his fork and poking at the yellow blob on his plate.
"Eggs," Gibbs said. He'd picked up similar fare for himself in the hospital cafeteria that morning. "They look worse than they taste."
Tony wrinkled his nose and reached for the coffee on his tray, adding milk and sugar liberally. "At least they gave me coffee," he said.
"I called Ducky," Gibbs said, watching as Tony took a hesitant sip of the coffee and then grimaced at the subpar quality. "He's gonna come by in a little while."
Tony's hands stilled and his face became unreadable for just a moment, a moment so quick that if Gibbs didn't know him so well he'd think he imagined it, before he set his coffee down on his tray and shoveled eggs into his mouth.
"Haven't called anyone else yet," Gibbs continued, "figured they wouldn't be able to see you if they came now anyway."
"Why not?" Tony asked, eyes on his plate.
"You have your spinal tap soon," Gibbs reminded him.
"Oh," Tony said, "yeah." He paused for a moment, fork hovering over his plate, and then he set it down and reached for his coffee. "You don't have to call them," Tony said, holding his hands around the warm cup and staring down at the shiny surface of the liquid inside. "We can just see what happens over the weekend and call them when I get let out," he added, before taking a long sip of his coffee and studiously avoiding looking in Gibbs' direction.
When he'd put the coffee down and the silence from Gibbs was unbearable, he chanced a peek over at the man, and then swallowed nervously when he saw the strange expression on his face that had been surfacing more and more over the past week or so, the one Tony was not used to at all and couldn't quite decipher.
"What?" Tony finally said, looking at Gibbs expectantly. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
Gibbs shrugged, and his expression cleared into a more familiar one of put-upon patience. "DiNozzo," he said, "I told you last time-they're your team and they deserve to know what's going on with you."
Tony looked away from Gibbs, letting a hand trail over the top of his left thigh, leaving nothing but tingles in its wake. He knew that if he let his fingers drift a little lower, he would hardly even feel the tingles at all.
"What if I don't want them to know?" Tony said, turning to look at Gibbs.
Gibbs sighed, running a hand over his face. Tony wasn't the only tired one, after all. "Tony," he said, trying to sound patient and succeeding-barely. "I don't think it'll be hard for them to figure out."
Tony narrowed his eyes in Gibbs' direction and then turned back to his breakfast, eating fast and ignoring Gibbs, and especially ignoring the burn of emotion he could feel building behind his eyes. He knew Gibbs was right, but that didn't take away the bite of his comment. He finished his eggs quickly and let his fork drop onto his plate with a clatter, and reined his emotions in before turning back to Gibbs.
"So, Gibbs," he said, allowing a grin to pass over his features, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I've been thinking about this all morning. What'd you think of Leo's performance in Titanic? One of his better-"
"DiNozzo," Gibbs said warningly, exasperation creeping into his voice at the blatant subject change on Tony's part, and also at himself for ever letting that one slip to Tony, of all people.
"What?" Tony said. "Not a Leo fan?"
Gibbs rolled his eyes as Tony sipped more of his coffee. "If I don't call Abby soon, she'll be pissed," Gibbs said. Tony wasn't the only one who could do blatant subject changes, after all.
Tony's shoulders stiffened, and his fingers tightened in their hold on his coffee mug. "How about you just call Abby, then," Tony said after a pause, eyes trained on his coffee mug. "but not McGee and Ziva," he clarified.
"Why don't you want them to know?" Gibbs asked, even though he had a fair idea already.
Tony swallowed thickly. "Gibbs," he said, "what if this is it?"
Gibbs' eyebrows rose in surprise. He hadn't been expecting that. "What the hell are you talking about?" he asked sharply. "You think you're dying?"
Tony's head swiveled towards him. "I don't know what to think!" he said angrily. "What the hell would you think? My fucking leg doesn't work! I can't do field work! I'll be lucky if I can get a fucking desk job in HR!"
"Is that what this is about?" Gibbs asked, his voice low and dangerous. "You think you're off my team?"
"What else am I supposed to think?" Tony asked, alarmed when his voice came out much more miserable than he'd anticipated.
Gibbs snorted. "You keep talking like that, you will be off my team," he said. "Give me some credit, DiNozzo. You've been on my team longer than anyone ever has. You think I'll give you up over something like this? Hell no."
"I can't go in the field like this, Gibbs," Tony said, his heart thumping in his chest. "What are you gonna do with me?" He couldn't help but object and question him, unwilling to accept what he was saying. He couldn't understand why Gibbs would keep him around when he was virtually useless.
"Hey," Gibbs said sharply, "when did anyone say this was permanent?"
Tony froze for a moment, hands still holding onto his coffee cup, before setting it down on his tray slowly.
"Can't believe you'd give up on yourself that fast," Gibbs continued. "They don't even know what's wrong with you. Let them do their tests, and get the results, and then you can worry about it. I told you before that we'd get through this, and I meant it."
Tony looked at Gibbs, and he was surprised by the intensity and the sincerity in the man's eyes. He'd seen Gibbs look like that once or twice, and he knew that look meant business. Gibbs didn't do anything by halves, after all, and if he said he was going to help Tony through this, he meant it.
"You're on my team no matter what," Gibbs said, his eyes burning into Tony's. "You got that?"
Tony swallowed thickly under Gibbs' intense scrutiny, unable to hide the emotions in his eyes and yet unable to look away, either.
"Got it, Boss."
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