Title: Protective Streak
Author: Tearsofamiko
Rating: K
Disclaimer: Liars make my ears itch; I try not to have that happen.
Spoilers: SWAK
Summary: He'd never come across anyone who inspired such protectiveness within him, not since Kelly.
A/N: : :sigh: : I watched SWAK again and had to write something. Ah, such a lovely, emotionally charged episode. Plus, who doesn't love a beat-up Tony? Come on, now. ^^ BTW, shameless quote thievery: none of the dialogue is mine. It's all from the episode.
The sight hit him like a punch to the gut, knocking him askew for a moment. He didn't allow his step to falter, called up all of his Marine training to keep his face impassive. He didn't know how Kate'd stayed here for so long, was amazed by her fortitude; he knew she had steel in her backbone, didn't realize it extended into her emotions. He admired her for it, wished he could have been there himself, but knew he couldn't have handled it. It had been bad enough when Kelly was sick.
He strode – in appearance – confidently into the isolation room, brushing past the doctor blocking his way. He's completely focused on the man on the bed, on the paleness of his skin, the labored rasp of his breathing. It's the most gut-wrenching sound he'd ever heard and the most welcome; as long as he struggled, as long as he fought, there was still a chance. He held tightly to that thought as he drew close to the bed, as the full damage of Hannah Lowell's wrath became painfully obvious.
He saw past the oxygen-deprived darkness of his nose, lips and fingertips, past the shuddering and choking, past the sweat-soaked hair, to the pained, haunted, terrified glimmer deep within dulled green eyes. He had never drowned before, never had to fight for the air to live, couldn't completely comprehend what exactly his agent was going through. However, he'd dealt with enough injured comrades during his years in the Corps and with enough of his own injuries to have some idea.
Didn't stop the worry, though.
He'd never come across anyone who inspired such protectiveness within him, not since Kelly. Yet here he was now, damn-near sick with the knowledge that there's only a fifteen percent chance the younger man will make it through this. He didn't know how to handle it, so he covered it with his usual tough-ass routine. He'd growled at the hospital staff, held a lab-rat at gunpoint, snarled and barked orders at his team, all trying to diffuse the situation, to cover the emotions.
It wasn't really working.
He leaned over the bed, leaned down next to his agent, placing himself close enough to see the beads of sweat on the younger man's forehead. He hesitated for the barest second, not breathing, not speaking, hardly thinking in the face of such pointless, merciless destruction. Then he took a breath and spoke.
"Tony, can you hear me?" he asked in a low voice, speaking right into his ear.
"I'm listening, Boss," was the eventual response, preceded by several choking, hesitantly shallow breaths.
"You will not die." Gibbs refused to allow his voice to waver in the slightest, refused to even consider an alternative. He was met by silence, however, and for a brief second he felt his heart lurch as Tony's eyes slipped shut. Forcing himself to be brusque, forceful, knowing the younger agent wouldn't be able to refuse him as such, Gibbs reached out and carefully tapped Tony's forehead, a pitiful approximation of his usual wake-up call. Its effect was immediate as the younger man's eyes snapped open, abruptly at attention despite the demands of his body. "I said you. Will not. Die."
Tony hesitated for a second, not even trying to breathe as he processed Gibbs' words, before responding. "I gotcha, Boss," he replied, the words choked and guttural as he fought the congestion in his chest and the urge to cough.
He relaxed then, though the case wasn't over and Tony wasn't out of the woods yet. However, it was all within reach: Hannah Lowell was in custody and DiNozzo wouldn't dare defy a direct order. A few loose ends and time were all that lacked and they would sort themselves out eventually. Mission accomplished, Gibbs turned to leave, then spun back to face the bed. He took Tony's hand in his, tucked the new cell-phone he'd been carrying with him through this whole fiasco into the lax palm, and closed his fingers around the device, patting his agent's hand briefly.
"It's your new cell. I'd get the number changed. Women keep calling for Spanky," he mentioned as he made his way out of the room.
He was almost through the airlock when he noticed the way DiNozzo was clinging to the new phone and his gut clenched as the image of a little red-haired girl clutching a teddy bear to her chest overlaid the scene in isolation. He shook his head and grinned to himself, even as the weight of DiNozzo's trust in him settled heavily on his shoulders. He squeezed Kate's shoulder as he passed, caught Ducky's eye, and nodded to the clean-cut, worn-looking doctor hovering nearby.
Pausing for a moment in the hallway, he vowed that Hannah Lowell would pay for what she'd done, would know his vengeance before the brain-tumor took away his opportunity. Continuing his journey through the hospital, he flipped open his cell-phone and dialed Cassie's number.
It was time they got down to the bottom of this.