Chapter 4
...beep…beep…beep…beep…beep…
The steady beep of the heart monitor was the most comforting sound in the world to Jethro Gibbs. He sat sentry in the chair next to his son’s bed, refusing to let anyone other than medical professionals near. No one blamed him, so far. After all, his son died last night.
For two minutes and twenty-three seconds, Anthony Gibbs-DiNozzo was dead.
Thanks to the quick work of Mick, the skilled EMT working in the back of the ambulance, Tony had been revived and there hadn’t been anymore scares since that incident, nearly six hours earlier. Toxicology scans in the ER had revealed a potentially lethal dose of condimethyltrioxilate, CMT on the street. Drug side effects include severe sensory sensitivity, hallucinations, synesthesia (seeing sounds, hearing smells, etc), feelings of euphoria, anxiety or extreme fear, and severe side effects include heart or respiratory failure, as well as brain, liver, or kidney damage.
Once the doctors knew what they were dealing with, they determined that it would be acceptable to give Tony a very light sedative to help him get some rest while the major effects of the drug wore off. They’d admitted him into the detox wing at Sinai Hospital, and he’d been asleep ever since.
Not a peaceful sleep, but sleep nonetheless.
He was still restrained.
He was still in an unpredictable state of mind, and would be for quite some time, the doctor said.
Gibbs didn’t care. His boy was alive. He’d be pissed about the restraints, but for now it was necessary. They’d splinted his broken wrist to keep the damage from increasing; until enough of the drugs were out of his system to deem him stable enough for the operation required to reset the bones in the wrist he crushed when he pulled his hand out of his handcuffs, the splint would be worn.
Tony moaned softly, immediately drawing Gibbs’ attention. He stood up and moved to the side of the bed, taking his son’s good hand in his own, and squeezing gently.
“Tony? You with me,” Gibbs called softly.
Tony moaned again, and his eyelids fluttered a bit. Finally they slid open just a bit. Green orbs moved unevenly, trying to focus on the room, before sliding shut again.
“Tony, wake up. Come on you can do it.”
Tony’s eyes slid open again. There was Gibbs, right there beside him, like he always was when he was sick. Was he sick? Had something happened? Where was he? Tony glanced slowly around the room. Hospital? What had happened? He tried to lift his hand to his face, but found he couldn’t lift his arms. Fighting down his rising panic, he wondered what was going on.
He licked his lips slowly. “H-hap-pened,” he croaked.
Gibbs ran a small ice chip over his parched lips to moisten them before sliding the ice into his son’s mouth.
“Easy. Want another?” Tony nodded.
Once Tony was sucking on the ice, Gibbs answered him.
“Op went bad. You were made. Do you remember?”
Tony thought back. The op had gone bad? It was foolproof. There was no way he could have been made…what had happened? Sam and he had…oh God…Sam…
Tony gasped as he was suddenly assaulted by the memories of what happened and the fingers of his good hand gripped the bed sheets tightly.
“Hey easy…you've got to stay calm or they’ll make me leave. These guys here don’t screw around. Behave yourself, alright?” Gibbs grinned at him.
Tony nodded just slightly before a small yawn overtook him.
“Rest son. It’s alright now. Doc’s coming by later to see how you’re doing. When he does we’ll see about getting the restraints off. Get some rest.”
Gibbs pressed a kiss to his son’s forehead. “I got your six Tony. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
With that reassurance, Tony fell asleep.
**
Gibbs was shocked when, around lunch time, Diane showed up. She held three strings with balloons attached to the ends and set them in the window when she came in.
“How is he,” she asked softly, seeing her sleeping step son on the bed in front of her. Gibbs had called her once they arrived at the hospital to let her know that Tony had been injured and that Gibbs was accompanying him to the hospital. She hadn’t asked what happened, and he hadn’t offered the information. He knew that would be a fight when it came out. She’d been indifferent on the phone at 3:30a.m. which led to some of Gibbs’ surprise when she showed up.
The doctor had come by earlier and decided to remove the arm and leg restraints from the bed. Tony had immediately curled onto his side, facing towards Gibbs, good hand clinging desperately to his dad, and had been sound asleep ever since he left. He looked pale and drawn; he’d had several nightmares to disrupt his rest, and now the cuts and bruises stood out in great contrast to his blanched skin.
“Finally resting some,” Gibbs answered, kissing her cheek softly. “Had a helluva night. Went into cardiac arrest on the way here.”
“Oh my God,” Diane exclaimed quietly. “What happened?”
“Op went bad. The perps nearly killed him. They’re going to have to run tests on his brain, liver, and kidney function to make sure there was no organ damage. He’s pretty messed up.”
Diane looked at Jethro. He looked awful. “I know he and I don’t get on that well, Jethro,” she said softly, drawing up a chair beside Gibbs and sitting down. “I don’t want him to be sick or injured or anything though,” she added after a moment.
Gibbs turned on her sharply. “That because you don’t want him at the house Diane? You know he’ll be there for a while til he gets back on his feet.”
Diane bit her lip. “You all couldn’t stay at his place? Wouldn’t he be more comfortable at home?”
“He’s not safe in Baltimore. His partner did this to him. Baltimore PD has some explaining to do.” Gibbs’ words were bitter, barely biting down his anger.
“His partner at the police department did this?”
“YES! He won’t hurt Tony anymore though.”
“Is he"”
“Made sure of it.”
Diane was quiet for a moment. Tony stirred and blinked his eyes open a tiny bit.
“D-dad,” he whispered.
“Right here bud. How you feelin’?”
“Mmm…ugh…”
“That good, eh?”
Tony nodded only slightly then his slightly unfocused gaze turned to his step mom. “Di-diane?”
“Hey Tony. Brought you some balloons.”
Tony blinked his eyes at them. He could vaguely make out their form, but not their color or designs. Between the drugs, the whack to the back of the head and the beating that had followed it, Tony was still pretty out of it and his vision was shot.
“Th’nks…can I…water please?” His voice was a quiet, defeated whisper, unlike any tone of voice Diane had heard him use before.
Instantly, Gibbs held a cup with a straw up for him so he didn’t have to sit up to drink. Last time they’d tried to sit him up, the concussion had reared its ugly head and he’d managed to throw up all over himself and the bed. Tony took several sips of water before blinking his eyes shut again.
“S-sleepy,” he said softly.
“Get some sleep son. I’m right here.”
Tony drifted off again without another word.
Diane stared in awe at the boy who was normally so cocky and outgoing.
“He seems so…fragile,” she said, a hint of fear and wonder in her voice.
“Wouldn’t you be,” Gibbs snapped. Then he stopped. “Sorry. Haven’t had any sleep.”
“I know. I’ll make sure his room is ready at home.”
“Thanks.”
She left without another word. Gibbs found he preferred it when she wasn’t around. That couldn’t be good, now could it?
**
Tony was dreaming. He knew he had to be dreaming, because he felt like shit when he was awake, but here he was feeling pretty good. He was back in the warehouse. He knew Sam was the supplier…knew Monty was the fall guy…he and Gibbs should have compared cases earlier in the week…Tony should have dug a little deeper when he went back through his case file. Sam was standing over him with the needle…he felt a prick…his head dropped. Things should have been different...
His dream shifted. Now he was in the hospital. Was it a hospital? It looked like a hospital…only the people…they didn’t look right…some were quiet, staring off into space…some were moaning, some were wandering, others were crying out in fear or pain. Most of them were old. Like, really old. Tony found himself strapped into a wheelchair and sitting next to a wall in a hallway. He was wearing striped pajamas…light blue ones like the ones his mother used to dress him in as a child.
He could feel drool running from his mouth down his chin and he lifted his gun hand toward his face to awkwardly wipe at it. What as wrong with his hand? It looked so gnarled and deformed…it hurt terribly…it hadn’t always been like that had it? His hand batted uselessly at his face, finally reaching it but missing the drool. A nurse walked by and he attempted to ask her what was wrong with him but his voice only made a quiet slur of gibberish sounds. His tongue felt thick and heavy…what was wrong with him? He felt like he was locked inside his own body…He felt like his brain had been transplanted to a defective body. What the hell was going on?
At the end of the corridor a door opened and a familiar silhouette filled the doorway then entered the building. He breathed a sigh of relief. He knew this person! They could explain to him what had happened! They could tell him what was going on and he could get them to help him. He was so excited to see…what was the man’s name? He knew he knew him"should be able to produce his name…produce the relationship they had…something was wrong…who was this person?
Then the salt and pepper haired man was standing over him. He was wearing a big smile on his face. That didn’t seem normal. This man didn’t normally smile like that. “Hey Tony-boy! How ya doin today?” Why was this guy talking to him like he was a kid? Tony thought he was a grown up…what had happened? Had somebody turned him back into a child? Tony grinned up at the familiar stranger. The man reached out toward his face with a handkerchief. “Let’s clean you up buddy. Want to go outside for a walk? Nice day out today. C’mon I’ll drive.” Something about that statement should bother him too…
The dream shifted again. He was still strapped into the infernal wheelchair, still unable to move or speak properly, but now the nice man was gone. His father and mother stood over him…both wearing the expressions they always had right before Tony got punished. Wait. Maybe that was it. Had he done something wrong? Was he being punished for something? There was something about the undercover op that wasn’t right. Maybe he’d screwed that up? That would be an important thing to screw up. Maybe he deserved to be punished.
His father drew back and swung down hard with a large club, landing right on his wrist. Damn, but that hurt! His father hit him again and again, all of his joints, his head, his wrist was hit repeatedly…what had he done that was so bad?
“Dad…Daddy stop…Father please…I’ll be good…I didn’t mean to screw it up…I’m sorry I should have known better…It won’t happen again…please don’t hurt me…please.”
**
Gibbs heard Tony’s quiet litany while he lay still on the bed. He looked like he was sleeping peacefully, but his face told another story. Suddenly Tony started moving around"little jerky movements. It wasn’t as though he was having a seizure"the movements were too coordinated for that. No…Gibbs quickly picked up on what was going on"Tony was flinching…he was being attacked in his sleep.
“Tony, wake up son. C’mon Tony, time to wake up. Snap out of it.”
Gibbs reached out and touched Tony’s shoulder. Tony’s eyes shot open and his unfocused gaze stared wildly around the room for a moment before finally managing to focus on…the face of the friendly man from his nightmare…Gibbs, of course, how could he have forgotten?
“Tony? You with me now?”
“D-dad?”
“Yeah, Tony, I’m right here. You were dreaming. You’re safe. No one here is going to hurt you.”
Relief flooded through Tony. It had all been just a horrible dream"a huge misunderstanding"the warehouse, the weird hospital with all the old people, Gibbs talking to him like a kid, his parents…it was all just a dream. He could move. He could speak. Things were fine. It was all good. Thank God.
“Dad…what happened? How’d I get here? Where am I?”
“Tony do you remember the undercover op you were working on?”
Tony thought hard for a minute. Sam. Yes he remembered. But he wasn’t sure anyone else knew about his partner.
He nodded slowly. “I remember.”
“Good Tony. Do you remember your partner’s role in what happened?”
It was big…a huge piece…Sam was standing up close to Tony…behind him? Holding him…were they lovers? No…Sam was married and Tony liked girls…in his mind, Tony felt the pierce of the needle again and gasped softly, his good arm going to his injured arm, and wrapping around the shoulder.
“Take it easy. You were drugged. It’s working its way through your system. Once you’re feeling a bit better you’re going to need surgery to repair your wrist.”
“…Happened to my wrist?”
“Before you were drugged, someone handcuffed you…while you were reacting to the drug you pulled your hand out of one of the bracelets on the cuffs. You basically crushed your right wrist, Tony.”
“Julie…”
“Who’s Julie Tony? Do I need to call her? Is she a lady friend of yours?”
Tony shook his head. “Vice…was with Sam…”
Gibbs realized he was talking about the other person at the bust. “She must have been in on it, Tony. She shot Stan. I shot her.”
“Stan…is he ok?” Tony tried to sit up but a wave of dizziness pushed him back down.
Gentle hands eased him back down and then fingers brushed comfortingly through his hair. “Easy…he’s fine. Through and through. Left shoulder. Some PT and he’ll be good as new.”
Tony nodded.
The pair was quiet for a long time. Finally Tony looked at Gibbs.
“Dad?”
“Yeah, Tony?” Gibbs leaned forward a bit, looking his son straight in the eyes.
“I don’t think I can go back to work here.”
“Ya think?”
There was another period of comfortable silence before Tony spoke again.
“Dad?”
“Yeah, Tony?”
“I’m scared.”
TBC…
Chapter End Notes:
Warning: For the nightmare"it may be disturbing to some folks