TUESDAY
It was just before 10 a.m. on Tuesday morning when Tony heard a tentative knock on his apartment door. He'd slept for 12 hours Monday night – give or take a coughing episode. He'd woken up about 6 a.m. and spent a good 45 minutes clearing his throat, hacking up phlegm, and coughing so much in one stretch that he gave himself a headache. He called Dr. Pitt around 8 a.m., just to make sure there wasn't something to worry about in all of that coughing. A tired but patient and fairly pleasant Pitt – considering he'd been woken up only two hours after he'd gotten out of a 7-hour surgical procedure – assured him that it was normal.
"It's your body's way of getting rid of all the accumulated fluids and other …" he yawned while searching for the word.
"Gunk?" suggested Tony, helpfully.
"Yes," Pitt laughed. "Gunk out of your system. Take your meds and go back to sleep," the doctor ordered. Tony did.
And then he heard it. The tentative tapping. It wasn't like he wasn't awake. It was 10 o'clock, after all. But he was so comfortable in bed. The tapping again. OK, he decided. He'd get up.
Tony sat on the side of his bed and stretched, drank the last of the water in the glass on his bedside table, cleared his throat with a couple of hacking sounds, and made his way to the front door.
"Yeah … I'm here," he said, with a rasp in his voice. "One second." He ran his hand through his hair, blinked a few times to try and look awake, and opened the door with a smile.
"Good mor ----" he began. Then, with eyes wide and a slightly shocked expression, "Dad."
"Hello Tony," said the man in the suit on the landing. (That phrase – "the man in the suit on the landing" – actually went through Tony's head. He thought it sounded like the opening of a Dr. Seuss book.) "How are you feeling?" his father said. "You sound like hell."
Tony cocked his head to the side and grinned slightly. "Nice to see you too," he said. "Come on in."
Tony's father walked in, followed by two women in nearly matching blue suits – except one had on a skirt while the other wore pants – and a fairly tall man in a black suit. Tony closed the door and turned around, surveying the assembled group.
"I think you know almost everyone in the entourage, don't you son?" DiNozzo Sr. said with a grin that was an older and more mature version of the one usually on Tony's face. The older man ran through a series of quick introductions.
"This," he said, indicating the brown-haired woman in the skirted suit, "is Debbie, my assistant. You've met her before."
Debbie looked at Tony, standing there in a t-shirt and pajama bottoms, barefoot and with hair that indicated he'd obviously just gotten out of bed, and smiled as she blushed slightly. "Mr. DiNozzo," she said.
"Hi Debbie," Tony replied. "Nice to see you again. Keeping my dad in line?"
"Not even remotely," she replied, with a look of regret. Tony chuckled.
"This," DiNozzo Sr. said, pointing to the slightly older woman in the pantsuit, "is Grace. She's Debbie's assistant and my liaison to the house staff."
Grace smiled and nodded. Tony did the same.
"And of course you remember Paul," Tony's father said, gesturing towards the man on his left.
"Dad," Tony said, acknowledging Paul and then looking back at his father. "Why did you bring me a butler?"
Tony's father sighed. "Oh, I don't know," he said. "I thought about some DVDs or maybe a book, but it's so hard to know which ones you don't already have. I knew you didn't have a butler." He smiled the 'patented DiNozzo smile' as Tony laughed, and then DiNozzo Sr.'s smile turned to concern as Tony began to cough.
"No," Tony gasped as he tried to talk between coughing. "I'm fine." His father moved towards him to help, but Tony waved him off. "Just gotta get this … " he coughed.
"Gunk out of your system?" Grace offered.
"Yeah," Tony said, his eyes twinkling in her direction. "Exactly." He finished the coughing fit, cleared his throat and accepted the bottle of water that Debbie seemed to procure out of nowhere.
"I appreciate the thought, Dad," Tony said, "but I'm good. As you can see, the place is relatively clean, and I like it kind of lived in." He looked at Paul. "No offense," he said.
"None taken," Paul replied. "Get the new Mustang yet?"
Tony chuckled. He reached over and tossed Paul some car keys that were on a hook by the phone. "Knock yourself out."
Paul glanced at DiNozzo Sr. and raised his eyebrows in a tacit question. "We'll be leaving at 1 p.m.," the elder DiNozzo said as Paul headed out the door. DiNozzo Sr. looked apologetically at Tony. "Sorry, son, but my afternoon is packed." Debbie and Grace nodded simultaneously.
"No problem, dad," Tony said. "I know it's a school day. Three hours is probably as long as we can stand each other anyway, don't you think?"
Tony's father smiled slightly. "Yes. That seems to be about the limit." He looked around the apartment, taking in the décor, style and cleanliness in one fell swoop. "It's a nice place," he said.
"Yeah," Tony replied. "It goes well with the plant."
"I'm afraid you'll have to thank Jorge for that," DiNozzo Sr. said. "That was his call. I picked out the pot though."
"It's pot?" Tony said, with a mock-alarmed look at the green & gold plant on the mantle. "I thought it was an ivy. I can't believe you sent me …"
Debbie and Grace hid their laughter as Tony's father cut him off with a light smack to the back of the head. The men smiled at each other.
"You have your mother's sense of humor," DiNozzo Sr. said.
"So I've been told," Tony replied.
Debbie and Grace headed out to the back deck to make phone calls, check e-mails, and give Mr. DiNozzo some time with his son.
"The assistant's assistant, Dad?" Tony asked with raised eyebrows. "A little overkill, don't you think?"
"Well, I wasn't sure when she'd get a chance to meet you," DiNozzo Sr. said, with just a bit of edge to his voice. "She's liaison to the house staff. I didn't want her to see you at the house one day and assume you were the new mechanic."
"Ouch," Tony said with a tight smile as he rubbed his jaw. "That was a direct hit."
The elder DiNozzo sighed and sat at the table. "Yes," he said, with a calmer and more level tone. "And perhaps unwarranted under the current circumstances."
It wasn't really an apology, but Tony knew it was the best he was going to get. There was a pause, and then the whole scene seemed to start anew. It was as if each man had hit an internal "reset" button and moved back into neutral territory.
Tony made some coffee and dug around in the refrigerator, looking for something suitable for breakfast. He wondered where all the food had come from, and then remembered Ducky and Gibbs from the day before. Tony's movements in the kitchen were punctuated by regular coughs and throat clearings, his father occasionally asking if he was all right, and Tony assuring him that he was.
They talked about family – Tony's father updating him on the conditions of various elderly relatives and reminding him about a cousin's graduation and an uncle's birthday. Tony dutifully made note and promised to send the appropriate cards and gifts. They discussed work – Tony summarizing the past few months into about a ten-minute sit-rep, and his father taking just a bit longer to give the highlights from his own office. They talked about football and about movies and about the news, Tony being rather proud to discover that he was a bit more clued into current events than his father. Working for a place that had the news on 24/7 had its advantages.
By one o'clock, Tony and his father had each had three cups of coffee, Tony had eaten half a bagel, half a banana, and had a glass of cranberry juice. The men were currently arguing about politics – Tony's father pointedly bringing up a long-standing disagreement about Tony running for office. When Tony reminded his father that you didn't have to have a political title to be considered a public servant and that solving murders and working to keep terrorists out of the US was perfectly legitimate public service as well, his father let out an exasperated sigh and gave up. Sort of.
"I just hate to see you waste your talents following someone else's lead all the time," DiNozzo Sr. said. Tony bristled. "I really am fine with you not going into the family business," his father continued, ignoring Tony's sarcastic look, "but you could do so much better for yourself."
"I'm doing fine, Dad," said Tony, looking squarely at his father. His father opened his mouth to say something and Tony cut him off. "I'm fine."
There was a beat of silence.
"You got the plague and nearly died," Tony's father said quietly. "That wouldn't have happened in …"
"Congress?" Tony said with a snort of a laugh. "Tell that to your pal Daschel. If you're trying to keep me safe, Dad, you'll have to look beyond politics. They have anthrax, guns, and crazies there too. At least in my profession, I'm armed and able to shoot back." A look at his father's face told Tony that he'd gone just a bit too far with that comment. He softened his voice a bit.
"I'm in a good place with NCIS, Dad," he said. "I'm a senior field agent. And I'm a good one." He started to say something else, but ended up coughing several times and taking another sip of water. "I'm fine," he said again. He wasn't sure if he was trying harder to convince himself or his father.
DiNozzo Sr. stood up. "I think we've hit our limit," he said with a tight smile that mirrored Tony's from earlier. He brushed off his pants and straightened the jacket he'd never taken off and the tie he'd never loosened.
Paul strode back in through the door, tossing Tony's keys on the counter. "Sweet," he said, smiling at Tony. "Very sweet." Tony acknowledged the compliment and put the keys back on the hook. "I filled the tank," Paul said, with a nod. Tony chuckled and looked at his father. "You've trained him well."
"I do what I can," his father said, both of them pushing past the recent disagreement and once again shifting down to neutral.
DiNozzo Sr. motioned for Debbie and Grace to come in off the deck. They gathered their files and Blackberrys and came back into the kitchen.
"You're sure you don't need anything," Tony's father said, as he surveyed his son's face and tried to determine whether it would be a good idea to send his personal physician by, just to take a look.
"I'm fine, Dad," Tony said, with another 'patented DiNozzo grin'. "I have a lot of friends who have made it their mission in life to take care of me." He saw his father's brow furrow with doubt. Tony continued, "I do not need Dr. Morris showing up on my doorstep later today. Or tomorrow. Or at all." He looked at his father with an almost scolding expression. "I'm being well taken care of," Tony repeated.
DiNozzo Sr. smiled at his son's intuition. "No Dr. Morris," the older man said. Tony bowed his head a bit as a thank you. And then he coughed yet another wet, hacking cough. "No Dr. Morris, yet," his father amended. Tony shook his head and smiled a smile that was designed to appease his father and get the whole entourage out of his apartment.
"Thanks, Dad," Tony said. "Don't work the staff too hard this afternoon."
Paul laughed a hearty laugh as he opened the door for the rest of the group. "Just how long have you known this man?" he said, with a grin.
The elder DiNozzo patted Tony on the shoulder and looked him square in the eye. "Take care of yourself," he said. "And call more often than twice a year, would you?"
"Phone works both ways, Dad," Tony said. The two men looked at each other for a second, and then DiNozzo Sr. headed out the door to the waiting car.
"Feel better soon," Debbie said, with a sincere smile.
"I promise," Tony said, with a smile in return.
Grace smiled at Tony as she followed Debbie out.
"Last chance," Paul said with a grin, as he took a tentative step out onto the landing. "Once I'm through this door, you're on your own."
Tony smiled. "I'll take my chances," he said. "Now get out of here and go do some real work."
Paul saluted smartly and, with a final "take care" and a wave, Anthony DiNozzo Sr. & Co. were on their way.
Tony closed the door. He was exhausted. He ate some cheese and crackers, took a quick, hot shower, straightened his bedroom, took his meds, grabbed an afghan from the closet, curled up on the couch, and fell asleep to "The Man in the Grey Flannel Suit." He was still on the couch when Gibbs called to check up on him at 6 p.m.
"Yes, Boss," Tony said as he sat up and turned on a light to wipe away the grayness of dusk. "I had a bagel and fruit for breakfast, cheese and crackers for lunch, and I'm just now heating up some soup for dinner."
There was silence on the other end of the phone. Tony could actually feel Gibbs staring at him through the phone line. He sighed. Then he got up and walked into the kitchen, putting the soup container into the microwave and holding the phone up so Gibbs could hear the sound of the oven working.
"You happy?" Tony said, with a tired grin.
"Be sure you eat it, DiNozzo," Gibbs said. "You sound like you've been sleeping all day."
Tony laughed a light laugh, followed by a hacking cough. "Yeah … that's me, Boss. Just lazing around."
"You're sure you don't need anything," Gibbs said. Tony had a moment of déjà vu, thinking back to his father saying those exact same words earlier in the day.
"I'm fine, Boss," he said, the same answer he'd given his father.
"Good," said Gibbs. And then he hung up.
Tony did actually eat the soup, with a few crackers and a glass of milk and a small bowl of ice cream. He felt a lot better with food in his stomach, so he pulled out the laptop and checked his e-mail. There was two weeks worth of spam that he deleted, a bunch of get well wishes, a couple of comical forwards from Abby, a downloadable game from McGee, and two lengthy and hilarious e-mails from a friend who was currently working in Colorado for NORAD. After an hour or so at the computer, he was beat. By 9 p.m., he was heading back to bed.
Just as Tony was about to turn off the lights, his phone rang again. The screen said "Ducky." Tony picked up the phone and before the doctor even had a chance to say hello, Tony reported out. "Yes, Duck, I took the meds. I'm feeling better, and haven't been coughing nearly as much. I had a bagel and fruit for breakfast, cheese and crackers for lunch, and soup, crackers and ice cream for dinner. Now, I'm going to sleep. Thanks for checking up on me. G'night." He put down the phone, turned off the light, and sighed into the comfort of his bed.
On the other end of town, Dr. Mallard looked at his phone with a small smile. "Pleasant dreams, Tony," he said.
