Caitlin was dead. A sniper had shot her. That was the message Ducky received after the frantic call to NCIS on the day Kate died. He arrived at the scene not long after he heard the news. Not that he had any official role there: the Director had called in another M.E. to supervise the removal of Kate's body. But Ducky, stunned and grieving, felt compelled to be with the rest of the team and offer what help he could.
He pulled up in front of the building to find Gibbs down on the street debriefing McGee. They looked at each other sombrely, but said nothing. It wasn't a time for words. Ducky went on up to the roof, where Marchetti's team were quietly and efficiently going about the business of sketching and measuring. Tony Dinozzo stood nearby, gazing out over the rooftops, answering when spoken to but otherwise silent. His face was streaked with blood.
"Anthony!" Ducky tapped his arm gingerly. "Are you hurt? Your face is bleeding." Gibbs could have told him that, at least.
Tony looked at the M.E. as if his voice had reached him over a great open space. Slowly, he reached up his hand to his face. "It's not mine, Ducky. It's ,,," He couldn't finish.
Oh, dear lord, Ducky thought, it's Caitlin's. He must have been standing right next to her when she …
Tony bent suddenly, his hands on his knees, and retched violently and seemingly endlessly onto the rooftop. The other agents on the roof discreetly found things to do further away, giving him a modicum of privacy. Ducky caught Tony as he finally staggered back. He sat him down on a fan housing and looked about him for a tap. Spotting one not too far away, he went over to it, pulled out a pristine handkerchief and wet it under the water flow. He came back to where Tony sat and sponged Kate's blood from his face, as gently as if he were caring for Kate herself. But no amount of tender care could bring Kate back, and they were both beginning to know it.
Clouds were gathering on the horizon, and far off rumbles of thunder spoke of rain to come. Ducky found himself wishing it would pour, anything to wipe the pool of Kate's blood off the roof as he was wiping it from Tony's face. But Marchetti's team needed the rain to hold off for a while. They had a job to do.
"You wish it was her, don't you". Tony's voice, hoarse and cracked, startled Ducky out of his thoughts. "You wish it was her you were helping. And it might have been, too, if only I'd …" His voice trailed off and he twisted away from Ducky's hand.
"Anthony!" Ducky stared down at him, aghast. "Anthony, what on earth …"
Tony lurched to his feet. He hunched his shoulders as though he were standing in a strong wind, though the air was still calm. "I should have … I could have..." He screwed his eyes shut and thrust his clenched fists deep into his pockets.
"Anthony, my boy! You surely can't think you could have stopped a sniper? One you didn't know was there? " Seriously worried, Ducky caught hold of Tony's sleeve.
Tony didn't seem to hear or feel him. He rocked backwards and forwards on the balls of his feet, eyes still tight closed. "I should have worked harder to catch the bastard. Gibbs was right, I wasn't working a hot case. And that girl … Marta … she played me like a fool."
"Tony", Ducky said carefully, "I want you to sit down now. Here." He pressed Tony back down to where he'd been sitting. Tony didn't resist. "You're in shock. First the plague, then the car bomb, now …this". He couldn't put a name to what had happened on that roof an hour ago. "Let me finish cleaning your face".
Tony shook his head. Slow tears began to seep down through what was left of the blood on his face, but he didn't seem to notice. He hunched tighter into himself. Ducky could almost see the pain stalking the edges of his mind, prowling like a wild beast, seeking a way in.
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. Tony stood up. His spine straightened and he dragged his sleeve over his face, smearing off the tears and what was left of Kate's blood. With a great effort, he spoke in his normal voice. "I'm out of here, Duck. Gibbs will need me downstairs." His hand reached out to squeeze Ducky's shoulder before he strode off towards the doorway to the stairs.
Ducky watched him go, frowning. Tony would bear watching over the coming days, and not just for his physical health. He looked around once more at the rooftop, where Marchetti's people were beginning to pack up their gear. With a sigh that came from the soles of his boots, he turned to follow Tony back down to the street.
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Since then, Ducky had found himself watching Tony at odd moments when the younger man wasn't aware of the scrutiny. He'd seen the dark circles under his eyes deepen. That in itself wasn't surprising; they all had circles, and all for the same reason. Each day and night as they worked to crack the case, throughout Ari's harassment of the team, Tony carried on as usual, but he was quieter. The exchanges with McGee, the chats with Abby, his interactions with Gibbs and with Ducky himself – on the surface, nothing much had changed, but to Ducky's eyes the lines of strain were never far away. Tony had consented to have Ducky call Dr Pitt and get him checked over. He'd even agreed to proper meals when the M.E. stood over him. But always there, behind the grief and the obsession with the case they all displayed, Ducky saw the self-blame eating him away.
If Gibbs noticed anything, he didn't say so. After a while Ducky came to realise that Gibbs did in fact see nothing. He was obsessed with finding Ari. And then Ari was dead, and Ducky thought things might get back to what passed for normal with them these days. If they ever could.
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Some months later, Gibbs, Tony and Ducky sat in a car, on the trail of an abducted child.
"You sure about this, Gibbs?" Tony squinted out the car window at a small shack fifty yards away. The shack stook on a deserted headland, bare of all except the tumbledown building near the low cliff above the water, the gravelled road leading up to it and a few spindly trees bending in the wind. Clouds swirling grey and leaden above them lent a depressing half-light to the scene.
The Marine they were there to find was involved in a bitter custody battle with his wife and had snatched their daughter from her elementary school a couple of hours earlier. It hadn't been hard to figure out where he'd gone. The shack had belonged to his grandfather, his wife had told them, and nowadays her husband was the only person who used it. Or at least, they hoped he did. Despite the bitter cold, no smoke curled from the ramshackle chimney.
"Nothing moving, Boss", Tony said. "Maybe …"
"He's in there". Gibbs cut him off, his eyes never leaving the shack. Dinozzo was right, the place looked empty, but Gibb's gut had gone into overdrive. In the rear seat, Ducky peered out his window at the other vehicles rolling to a stop behind them. He'd asked to come along when he'd heard about the child, half for her sake and half for Gibbs'. With a child involved, it was the kind of case Gibbs particularly hated, and Ducky knew that.
The wind buffeted the car, howling through the gap in the slightly open window. Tony shivered and pressed the button to close it tight. The crack of a breaking bough made him jump. His eyes widened as he took in the sudden hole in the windscreen, the wind already keening through it. Not a breaking bough, then. Instinctively he turned to check on Ducky, registering as he did so the bullet hole in the upholstery near his shoulder.
"Get down!" Gibbs shoved Tony roughly sideways. "Down, Duck!" He threw open the driver's side door and jumped out into its shelter. Tony lifted his head cautiously above the dashboard and peered at the house. Ducky had followed orders and was crouched in the well behind the front seats.
"Looks like he's not up for a chat, Dinozzo". A second gunshot zinged past Gibbs' ear and smacked into the earth behind him. He gestured frantically to the men spilling from the other vehicles not to shoot. They didn't know where the child might be. A second later, Tony slid out of his own door and crouched behind it, his gun aimed at the window to the left of the door.
Sporadic shooting from the shack continued. Tony tightened his grip, waiting for Gibbs to give the order to return fire. Behind him, he heard the crackle of a radio as the backup team called in the situation and requested an ambulance be dispatched.
The door of the shack swung open. Tony shifted his aim.
"Hold your fire, Dinozzo!" Gibbs' shout was almost carried away by the wind, but Tony heard it and jerked his hand down.
Framed in the opening was a girl of about five, clutched from behind by her father, shielding his body. Tears of fright streaked her face. Her father swayed on his feet. Even from this distance, they could see he was blind drunk.
Tony swore. Gibbs said nothing but his mouth tightened into a straight line. His team knew that line. They all hoped fervently never to be the cause of it.
The Marine loosed off another shot in their direction. It whizzed harmlessly overhead. "If I can't have her, that cow won't either!" The slurred shout was only just audible above the wind. He dragged the weeping child off the porch and over to the edge of the cliff. Beneath them, the water roiled and churned in the gale.
"Carlton!" Gibbs shouted. "You don't want to do this. Let her go!"
The words were barely out before a particularly violent gust of wind bucketed the drunken Marine. To a collective indrawn breath of horror from the watchers, he staggered, his knees buckled and he fell backwards over the drop, taking his daughter with him.
From the corner of his eye, Gibbs saw someone flash past as Tony raced to the edge and peered into the water below. Two heads bobbed to the surface down there, together for a moment, then separated by the current. Tony shucked off his coat and his shoes. Gibbs was beside him in an instant.
"Dinozzo!" He grabbed Tony's arm. "Wait! You're not over the plague yet. Your lungs aren't …"
"Got to try, Boss". Tony's fingers worked overtime to undo his belt. "No time to wait for someone else". He flashed a quick grin at Gibbs. "Phys ed major, Ohio State, remember?" Then he was gone, leaping into the torrent below.
Gibbs held his breath until the dark head broke the surface. He saw Tony strike out in the direction of the smaller head, now being swept fast downstream. The father had disappeared, Gibbs didn't know where. Nor did he particularly care.
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Tony struck out as strongly as he could, helped by the current. Ahead of him, the little head, darkened the water, disappeared for a moment and then bobbed up again. Tony could see the child's mouth opening and closing, gasping for air. He spurred himself on, ducking to avoid a large branch that swept between them.
A minute more and he knew Gibbs had been right, he wasn't ready yet. His lungs burned and laboured. He sucked in air, every muscle straining to overcome the deadly tiredness already creeping over him. Long-ago training kicked in and he counted aloud, gasping the numbers one by one as his mouth cleared the surface with each stroke, using them to anchor his thoughts.
But his thoughts had a mind of their own, even now. Kate and Paula. Both smart, capable women; both the victims of men bent on their own foul purposes. At least with Paula it hadn't been final, she'd fought back and freed herself, whereas Kate … His mind shut down, the way it always did when he thought of Kate. He wrenched his attention back to the situation at hand. He wouldn't let this one go. Dammit, he wouldn't! With a huge mental effort he sent his mind back to the swim trials at Ohio State. It's just a race, Dinozzo, just a race. He imagined the roar of the crowd, the sparkling eyes of a pretty girl cheering him on.
Slowly, slowly, Tony closed the distance. The water was bone-numbingly cold, sapping his strength and chilling him to the very core. Only the strength of his determination kept him going, but even that had its limits. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, and he couldn't catch his breath. He felt a flash of pure animal panic, but he fought it off. Then, just as he thought he must give in, his outstretched fingers brushed against a small arm. With one last lunge, he pulled the child to him and felt her arms wrap themselves around his neck. She sobbed hysterically as he struggled to keep both their heads above water.
To the left, not far away where the headland dipped back to level ground, he saw a small sandy beach on the river shore, ringed about with rocks. The force of the rushing water whipped up foam as it swirled past them. Getting past them in one piece would be tricky, but it was their best chance.
Tony trod water, or tried to, for a few seconds. "What's your name?" he gasped, one hand pushing the child's sodden hair away from her eyes.
"Amy", the child sobbed. She clutched convulsively at his neck, her tiny chest heaving.
"Listen, Amy." He dragged in a breath. "We're going to swim inshore now. I need you to let go of my neck. " Without waiting to see if she'd understood him, he detached her arms from around his neck, rolled on to his back and let his body float up, holding her with one arm and striking out with the other towards the sand. Amy struggled at first, but then seemed to understand what he needed her to do. She lay passive and let him tow her.
On the shore, shouting men and women in black jackets were sprinting down the headland to the little cove. The rain began to fall in sheets, obscuring his vision. Tony started as the heavy drops stung his eyes, but then relaxed. It wasn't possible to be any wetter than they already were. In the roaring confusion of his surroundings, his mind focused and became ice cold. He saw nothing except a gap in the rocks ahead. He aimed their bodies towards it and the safety of the sand beyond. As they neared the rocks, he hauled Amy around and into his arms.
"Hang on to my neck". The winds whipped his words away. "Amy, can you hear me? I need to use my arms now. Hang on to my neck!" She nodded, her face whiter than white. Her arms came round his neck in a tight grip. "Don't let go, you hear me? Hang on, we're nearly there".
Later he could never remember much of the struggle to reach the shore. The bruises and gashes on his skin spoke of the battering he'd had against the rocks, turning his body when it seemed Amy would be smashed against them, taking the brunt of the collisions himself. Through it all he struggled to keep Amy's head above water as the girl hung on for grim death. Only a few minutes passed, but for Tony time slowed down and crept with leaden feet.
They were there! One more push and they'd be through the rocks and into the safety of the cove. Kaleidoscopic flickering images of agents knee-deep in the water, reaching out to them, flashed past Tony's eyes. Gibbs was there, mouth open, shouting something, but Tony heard nothing except the frantic pounding of his heart. He aimed again for the rocks, determined this time not to be beaten back. With a last mighty effort, he launched himself at the gap and felt a hand from within their shelter close around his wrist and pull him through.
He never saw what it was that swept Amy from his grasp. Gibbs told him later that it was a huge tree trunk, uprooted upriver by the violence of the storm and careening down the swollen river. He only knew that one second he had her, the next he didn't. He grabbed desperately for her clothes, her hair, anything to pull her back, but she was gone, carried down the river away from him.
Tony lunged for the gap again, desperate to get back out into the river, but strong hands held him fast and hauled him in to shore and out of the water. Gibbs was shouting and pointing downstream, he remembered that later, but not what he'd said. Tony lay exhausted, face down on the gritty sand in the streaming rain and wind. Someone was talking to him, shouting above the wind, but the words meant nothing to him. Unable to process what had happened, he let the realisation that he'd lost the girl sink in.
For a moment, the universe went silent. Then a racking surge of grief and anger boiled up inside him. The sheer devouring rage he'd been suppressing since that afternoon on the rooftop overwhelmed him. He heard somebody screaming denial and realised with a strange detachment that it was him. Sobs shook him from head to foot, interspersed with racking coughs. His bruised body ached and stung. Indistinguishable from the rain, tears coursed down his cheeks. Someone was pounding the sand, smashing a fist into it time and time again. Judging by the pain in his hand, that must be him too, he thought, while he was still capable of thought. He felt rather than saw someone bending over him and heard a familiar voice shouting over the roaring in his ears. "She's safe, Tony. Marchetti pulled her out of the river a bit further down. She's safe". Then it all closed down and the world went black.
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Half an hour later, the rain had eased, but the icy wind was still a force to be reckoned with. Half-draped in the two blankets Gibbs had wrapped round him, Tony sat shivering on the rear step of the ambulance as the paramedics checked him over. Occasionally he winced as they touched a particularly sensitive spot or dabbed an abrasion with disinfectant. For the most part, though, he sat in withdrawn silence, his eyes swollen and sore.
Nearby, Ducky was on the phone to Dr Pitt at Bethesda, recounting the afternoon's events. Gibbs came back from seeing off the second ambulance, hastily summoned when it became clear there would be two patients and not one. Amy had been taken off for observation in hospital overnight, but seemed unlikely to have sustained any major damage, physically at least. Her father's body – and Gibbs was fairly sure by now it was a body they were talking about - still hadn't been found.
Ducky broke the connection and turned to Gibbs, who raised an enquiring eyebrow. "Bethesda tomorrow morning, he said, for a thorough check-up. I was able to convince him there's no immediate danger. Tony's breathing's almost back to normal now, and he's not coughing as much as he was after they pulled him out of the water".
"Good", Gibbs said. He walked over to where the paramedics were working on Tony. "What's the verdict?"
"No major bones broken that I can see", replied the older of the two, whose name badge identified him as Paul. "He was lucky, from what I can see of those rocks. But we'll take him to hospital for observation just in case…"
"No!" Tony's voice came out in a cracked growl. "No hospital. I don't need one".
Gibbs scowled at him. "Dinozzo …" he started, but Tony held up his hand.
"I'm fine, Gibbs. Nothing wrong with me that a hot bath and a stiff drink won't fix". He glared defiantly at his boss. "I'm not going to a hospital again, I don't care if it's only the local one". His last stay, at Bethesda, was still raw in his mind.
Gibbs' brows drew together, He opened his mouth to bark a retort, but a calm voice spoke up before he got it out.
"Of course you aren't, Anthony. You're quite right, there's no need. Not if you have a doctor with you overnight". Ducky had come up behind Gibbs. He squeezed Gibbs' arm meaningfully and moved around to Tony's side. "I'm Dr Mallard, from NCIS", he said to Paul. "Agent Dinozzo will be quite safe with me. If I have the slightest worry about his health I'll have him at the hospital straight away".
"OK, Doc, if you say so". Paul finished applying a bandage to Tony's arm and began to pack up his kit. "Just remember, shock and exposure can …"
"I won't forget", Ducky assured him. "We do look after our own, you know". Satisfied, Paul nodded and moved off with his partner.
Tony scowled up at Ducky and Gibbs. "What's going on? You didn't tell him your patients are all dead".
Gibbs turned to Ducky. "Yes, Dr. Mallard, what is going on?" His scowl matched Tony's.
Ducky smiled benignly. "My dear Jethro, I'm suggesting nothing more sinister than that we book into that fine-looking establishment we passed on the way here for the night. Tony shouldn't be alone tonight, for very sound medical reasons, and it's a long drive back to the city".
"The paperwork …" Gibbs started.
"Can wait", Ducky interjected smoothly. "The diver teams will be searching for Carlton's body half the night anyway. Even if they found something tonight, you wouldn't be writing it up till the morning". He jerked his head in Tony's direction, signalling Gibbs with his eyes. "Walk with me a moment, Jethro. Anthony, do excuse us".
Strolling Gibbs away from Tony, who had gone back to scowling at his toes, Ducky murmured, "Jethro, surely you can see the lad's beyond exhaustion, even if he won't admit it. You can't let him go on like this. The last few weeks have been hard enough, but today nearly pushed him over the edge".
"I know it's been hard, Duck, it's been hard for all of us".
"Jethro", Ducky cut him off. "Anthony blames himself for Caitlin's death. How could you not know that?"
Gibbs stared at him. "He WHAT?"
Ducky shook his head, exasperated. "He blames himself for Caitlin's death. He never took your obsession with finding Haswari seriously. You told him yourself, Jethro, he wasn't working a hot case. Then there was that woman … Marta, was it? Tony beat himself up for running after her when all the time she was part of Ari's group. He can't stand it that she pulled him in so easily".
"Dammit, it, Ducky, I didn't know". Gibbs' forehead creased. "Why the hell didn't he tell me?"
"For heaven's sake, Jethro", Ducky huffed. "Sometimes I wonder about you, I really do". He gave a tart click of his tongue and came round in front of Gibbs, putting his hands on the taller man's shoulders and looking up earnestly into his face. "For someone so observant, you can be remarkably obtuse, you know. Do you talk about Caitlin's death with your colleagues?" Gibbs started to speak, but Ducky cut him off, the words tumbling out of him in frustration. "No, I thought not. And young Anthony is every bit as stubborn as you are. Why would you think he'd talk to you about it? It's been eating him up inside ever since..." His voice trailed off.
Gibbs looked away from his old friend and out across the headland. He spoke as if to himself, thinking back. "There was that thing with Agent Cassidy a while back. Tony blamed himself for letting her go back to the truck alone when she was abducted. He took it hard for a while. Something about not looking after her …" The penny dropped.
For a moment they were both silent. "I didn't know", Gibbs said again, softly this time. His voice dropped even lower. "I was too busy blaming myself to see it".
"Yes, well …" Ducky peered at him from under his bushy eyebrows, calmer now. "We none of us were thinking straight." He reached up and patted Gibbs on the shoulder. "But now you do know, Jethro. I can't tell you what to do about it, I don't know myself, but it might help you to understand why Anthony was so distraught when he thought he'd lost that child today". With a final pat, he walked away, back toward the ambulance.
Gibbs watched him go. "OK, Duck. You win", he said quietly. He headed back to where Tony was pulling himself to his feet and raised his voice slightly. "We could all do with some rest before we head back. Dinozzo, no arguments. We're staying around here overnight. Ducky, get his stuff together. " Ducky hurried off to get the things Tony had flung off in his haste to hit the water.
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The motel room was warm and comfortably furnished. Since the establishment was popular with business travellers, it had been the only room available, but at least it was a large family suite with several beds.
Gibbs kicked the door closed behind them. He and Ducky supported Tony between them. Tony had been adamant he could walk under his own steam when he got out of the car, but his knees had buckled halfway to the room, even though it was just a short distance to the door. He muttered under his breath as the others pulled his arms over their shoulders, but made no other protest. As they manoeuvred him into the room they could feel the shivers racking his body. His lips were blue with cold and from time to time coughs racked him. They settled him into an armchair just inside the door, close to the wall heating unit.
"Ducky". Gibbs threw the key on to the nearest bed. "Get the shower running, as hot as you think he can take it". Ducky was already on his way into the bathroom. Gibbs heard the sound of the shower starting up as he turned his attention to Dinozzo. "Can you stand up?"
Tony snorted indignantly. "Of course I can stand up". His teeth chattered uncontrollably, making the words indistinct, but his glare spoke volumes. He started to rise from the chair, but staggered and almost fell, clutching the arm for support.
Gibbs looked at him. "I said stand up, Dinozzo, not fall over. Come on now, sit back down and let me help you". Ignoring Tony's evident irritation, he settled him back into the chair and whipped the sodden blankets away from his shoulders. He began to unbutton Tony's shirt.
A surprisingly strong grip settled round his wrist. "I can do it!" Tony snapped, pushing Gibbs' hands away. He fumbled at the buttons, seemed to realise his fine motor skills had all but deserted him, and ripped the shirt open instead, sending a shower of buttons to the floor.
Gibbs crooked an eyebrow. "I could have saved you that shirt. Have it your own way, though. You'll want to take the rest off yourself, then?" He suppressed a laugh at the look on Tony's face.
"Jethro", Ducky came to the door of the bathroom. "The shower's ready. Let me help you with … Oh. I see it's all in train".
Tony heaved himself up out of the chair, put a steadying hand against the wall, and shed his jeans, swaying but determined. Gibbs handed him the discarded blankets and he clutched them round him. Reluctantly, he allowed them to help him into the bathroom.
Ducky dashed out into the suite and returned with a chair from the kitchenette, which he put into the shower recess. "Sit on this, Anthony. And do give me those blankets". Steam fogged the lenses of his glasses, giving him a comical look.
The water cascaded over Tony's head and on down over his frozen limbs. He gave an involuntary hiss of pain as the circulation began to return, but otherwise sat quietly. Gibbs returned to the bedroom in search of further blankets, while Ducky remained on sentry duty, perched on the closed lid of the toilet, concerned to make sure Tony didn't pass out. Dinozzos do not pass out, he remembered Tony had said on his first day back from sick leave, but even Dinozzos have their limits.
They sat in companionable silence. The blue had left Tony's lips by the time the water began to lose its heat, and the shivering had lessened. Something of the desperate rigidity had gone out of him.
"Come on." Ducky reached in to check the water temperature and turned the taps off. "It's starting to run cold. Any more and you'll be a prune, a cold prune at that. Jethro, give me a hand here, will you? "
Gibbs came in with a couple of blankets. Between them, he and Ducky towelled Tony dry and wrapped him in them. They helped him back out into the main room and into one of the beds, piling on the quilts and turning up the heating. Tony said nothing throughout.
"Jethro", Ducky murmured to Gibbs once they had him settled in bed and had retreated to the kitchenette to make coffee. "Tony … he does realise the child is alive, doesn't he?"
"Told him myself, Duck, once we had him out of the river". Gibbs poured boiling water over the coffee. "He must have seen her go off in the ambulance". He stopped short, the kettle still in his hand. Ducky was looking pityingly at him. "What!? What've I done now?"
"Oh, you've done everything right, Jethro, You told him. But are you sure he heard you?"
"Of course he …" Gibbs stopped. He thought back to the events on the river bank. Dinozzo had been wrecked, physically and emotionally. He'd told him, that he knew, but had Tony taken it in? With a muffled oath, he turned and strode into the bedroom.
"Dinozzo!" Gibbs felt for a shoulder under the pile of quilts and blankets and shook it gingerly, mindful of the cuts and bruises. Tony's eye peered out from the cave he'd made around his head with the coverings. He shook them off and turned slowly on his back to look up at Gibbs.
"You don't have to shout, Boss, I'm right here". The black circles of fatigue and more around his eyes were still in evidence. His voice was flat and grey.
Gibbs moderated his tone. He sat on the side of the bed. "Tony. On the bank before … did you hear what I said to you?"
Tony shook his head dully. "You mean before the ambulance came? Sorry, Boss, I don't remember much. Did I miss something?"
Gibbs looked at him with a mixture of pity and affection. "Yes, you did, Tony, you missed the main thing. I'm truly sorry, I thought you'd heard. The little girl, Amy, she's alive. She's safe in the hospital. Her father …"
Tony sat up so suddenly that Gibbs only just pulled back in time to avoid their heads cracking together. He put out a steadying hand as Tony swayed where he sat. "She's … alive?" The incredulous question touched Gibbs deeply. "But … how? I lost her, I know I did …"
"No, Tony". Gibbs shook his head. "You kept her alive in the river. Without you she'd have drowned in minutes. Marchetti and the others pulled her out of the river a few metres further downstream. Didn't you see the other ambulance?"
"I wasn't seeing anything, Boss". Tony shook his head slowly. "I was so sure I'd lost her that I …"
"Here, Tony". Ducky came into the room with a steaming mug of coffee, which he pressed into Tony's hand, wrapping his fingers around it. "Can you hold this?" He waited for Tony's nod before he took away his own hand. Tony clutched the mug as if it were a life raft, heedless of its heat. He stared at Gibbs uncomprehendingly.
Then he took a deep breath, coughed a little, and straightened his shoulders as best he could, wincing as he leaned back against the headboard. He took a sip of the coffee, sighing in gratitude for its reviving warmth. A hint of colour began to creep back into his face.
"She's OK, then? You're sure?"
"Of course I'm sure, Dinozzo." Gibbs leaned forward for emphasis. "I'm going to the hospital myself in a minute, to check on her".
"Right". Tony put the coffee down on the side table and made to swing his legs over the side of the bed. "I'll come with you". He fell backwards as fatigue assailed him. Ducky caught him and laid him flat again, repositioning the mound of coverings to keep him warm.
Gibbs laughed. "Not tonight, Dinozzo. You'll see her tomorrow. I'll tell her you're coming." He looked at Tony's battered face. "Better get some beauty sleep first, though". Tony shot him a look but made no move to get out of bed again.
"Keep an eye on him, Duck", Gibbs said, shrugging into his coat. "I'll be back in a while with dinner".
As he closed the door behind him, he saw Ducky advancing purposefully on Tony and heard him say "Sleep, Anthony. Now. Or you'll hear the life stories of every single one of my graduating class at Edinburgh". Gibbs smiled to himself as he headed off to the car. At a time like this, Ducky was better than a sleeping pill. Not that Dinozzo would need one tonight.
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The sun shone in through the windows, where the curtains were pulled back on a fine morning. The storm had blown itself out overnight, leaving a trail of broken branches and debris to occupy the clean-up crews already busy on the roads.
The heap of covers on one of the beds twitched as Tony stirred. He pushed the blankets slowly away from his head as awareness returned and with it, the memory of where he was. Blessed warmth pervaded his body. He tried an experimental stretch and winced as the bruises and cuts reminded him they were there. But the shivering had stopped and so, it seemed, had the coughing.
Tony turned his head and looked around the room. Over by the window, Gibbs was sitting in a chair, watching him. The two men looked at each other in silence for a moment before Tony spoke.
"Morning, Boss". The hoarse croak that came out startled him. He cleared his throat and tried again. "How long have I been asleep?"
"Fourteen hours, Dinozzo." Gibbs said. "Still feel like crap?"
"Rested crap", Tony answered, and it was true. He felt a lot less tired. He pushed himself up on an elbow. "Nothing that a hot shower won't fix. Then can we go to the hospital?"
"Just as soon as you've had something to eat", Ducky said, coming in through the door from outside. He carried paper sacks that emitted tantalising odours. For the first time in a long time, Tony felt appetite stir. He reached for a sack with the beginnings of a smile.
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Some hours later, Gibbs pulled up outside Tony's apartment in Washington. They had visited Amy in the hospital, so that Tony could satisfy himself that she was indeed safe and seemingly not much the worse for her ordeal. Her mother was with her, effusive in her gratitude. After a time Gibbs and Tony had left to drive back to Washington. Ducky had satisfied himself that Tony was looking better, and had rung Dr Pitt to postpone the check-up for one more day. He had elected to stay a little longer with Amy and her mother and travel back to Washington with them in Mrs Carlton's car after Amy was discharged later that day.
Gibbs looked over at his passenger. "You going to be OK, Dinozzo?" The warmth that had begun to return to Tony's eyes as he chatted with Amy in the hospital had made Gibbs realise just how much it had been missing since Kate's death. Since they'd left, though, it had faded a little and Tony had been mostly silent throughout the drive.
"Sure, Boss". Tony reached for the door handle and started to open the door. Startled by a soft punch on his arm, he turned back to face Gibbs.
"Good catch, Dinozzo. It was a really good catch." Gibbs was rewarded by a renewed spark of warmth in the other man's eyes. Tony said nothing, only nodded slowly and got out of the car.
He stood watching as Gibbs drove away. Then he said quietly to himself, "Yeah. Yeah, it was, Dinozzo. A really good catch". Hugging himself against the winter chill, he turned and walked inside, an unaccustomed lightness in his step.
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