Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from NCIS.
Author's Note: To all who reviewed--thank you so much! I love to hear from you, so if you like today's installment, please let me know. And for those of you asking, Gibbs will be back soon. It's just that not having him around makes our poor Tony suffer just a bit more--and gives mean old Vance time to hang around and cause trouble. Oh, and the terrorists aren't done yet, they just need a chance to regroup.
Love to all,
TH
Vance, Ziva, and McGee stood along the perimeter observing the SWAT team prepare to enter the house. An agent monitoring the heat imagery software held up his hand to show they needed to wait. As three larger images stopped in the foyer, the SWAT member dropped his hand and yelled, "NOW!" into his headset.
Several of the armed men surged forward, knocking down the door and entering the house. Seconds ticked by during which shouting could be heard, followed by multiple shots being fired. The three NCIS agents leaned forward trying to determine what was happening inside.
The explosion surged over them without warning, forcing everyone outside to duck down and cover their heads. As a deafening sound erupted, glass flew everywhere, the front door blew off its hinges and landed in the yard, and bright orange flames leapt outward before sucking back into the interior of the damaged home. Several SWAT agents who stood directly in line with the bomb were blown backward, bodies twisting in the air before slamming into the ground. Alarms on cars surrounding the home blared, as windshields buckled and broke. Even standing many yards away from the house, the agents could still feel the heat from the blast wave as it passed over them.
Vance was the first one up. "Kayla! Jared!" he screamed, and ran toward the gaping hole in the front of his home. He sprinted past stunned SWAT members, who had not regained their senses enough to stop him. Holding his arms up to shield himself, the Director stepped into the gathering flames and thickening smoke. He passed by the body of a SWAT agent who had been torn apart by his close proximity to the explosion. The body of the terrorist who had detonated the bomb was shorn to pieces, bloody sections of him scattered throughout the foyer.
"Kayla! Jared!" the desperate father yelled again, moving in the direction of the living room, trying to locate his children. "Can you hear me?"
Moving as quickly as possible while trying to avoid the crumbling debris, Vance picked his way toward what had once been the living room of his home. He passed by the second terrorist who was sprawled beneath a large section of the wall, legs askew and gun still clasped in his grip. It was impossible to tell if the man were dead or alive.
As the smoke continued to build, Vance kept surging forward, tearing off his jacket to hold over his face. His eyes were watering and his skin was tingling from the increasing heat. Narrowing his eyes, he saw a foot and leg protruding from beneath an overturned cabinet in the corner. Quickening his pace, he recognized the appendage as belonging to the NCIS agent ordered to protect his family.
Grasping the edge of the heavy armoire, Vance heaved the large piece of furniture off the still body. It tilted precariously for a moment as he readjusted the position of his hands to prevent it from smashing back down on the agent. Finally maneuvering the object onto the floor, he heard a soft whimper. "Daddy," Kayla cried out, followed by a small cough.
"I'm coming, baby," Vance responded, turning around, but the sight he was met with stopped him cold. Agent DiNozzo was laying over the two children, arms curled around them in a protective hug. It was obvious he had shielded them from the worst damage of the explosion. The shirt on DiNozzo's back and arms was torn and shredded from shrapnel and flames, blood oozing through the tattered remains of the fabric. A large and bloody gash snaked along the back of his skull. The man wasn't moving; Vance could see no signs of life.
"Daddy!" Jared yelled from beneath the agent's arms. "Tony's dead! I think Tony's dead!"
Both his children were now coughing and crying hysterically.
"Alright guys, don't move," he said as gently as he could. "Let me check on Agent DiNozzo then we'll all get out of here."
Vance carefully reached out to check for DiNozzo's pulse—it took a few seconds, but he finally found one, slow and thready. "He's alive," he told the kids, hoping to calm them down. Sitting back on his heels; Vance tried to figure out what to do next. He needed to get them out of there as quickly as possible; the fumes from the fire were making it difficult to breathe, and the entire structure was unstable. But should he move DiNozzo? It was impossible to tell the extent of the Senior Field Agent's injuries.
Ziva appeared out of the haze and bent by the Director's side, her face a mixture of worry and fear. "The paramedics are behind me," she said.
Vance shifted out of the way, grateful to have their assistance. He reached out and grabbed Kayla's hand, tremors coursing through her tiny limb and into his own arm.
The EMT's swiftly assessed the scene and decided the best course of action was to remove all the victims immediately and continue emergency treatment outside of the structure. A soft cervical collar was gently eased around Tony's neck and he was rolled onto a stretcher which the EMT's carried out of the house. Vance then picked up Jared and Ziva bundled up Kayla, both agents following the stretcher and ducking around flames and falling chunks of wood.
Jackie Vance raced to meet her children as they were brought out to the front lawn. Taking Kayla from Ziva's arms, the mother's tears were soon mingled with the child's own. A second set of paramedics met them and began assessing the siblings for injuries. As they were checked for burns and broken bones, and their lungs were monitored for smoke inhalation, Jared stared across the lawn at the NCIS agent who was the center of a frantic group of emergency personnel. Tony had been secured to a backboard and a gurney; a tight-fitting oxygen mask had been placed over his nose and mouth. The team was loading him into the back of an ambulance for transport to a Level 1 Trauma Unit.
Jared watched it all in silence, only vaguely aware of the ministrations of the technicians delicately treating his own minor injuries. The young man's wet eyes found those of his father, "He saved us, Dad. Tony saved us. Please don't let him die."
Taking in the scene around him, Vance was momentarily overwhelmed. Flames and smoke were spitting from the remains of his home. McGee stood with his arm around a disheveled Ziva, both silently observing their friend's struggle to survive. Vance noticed tear stains streaking through the black smudges on Ziva's cheeks. It was surreal. Then the ambulance pulled away, lights flashing and sirens screaming into the night, and the Director once again looked at his son. "Just as soon as I know you two are alright, I'll go take care of him, Jared. I'll make sure that Agent DiNo…..Tony is just fine. I promise you I won't let him die," he said solemnly. Silently Vance prayed that he wasn't lying to his son.
The boy coughed and laid his head on his father's chest, closing his eyes for the first time in hours. "Thanks, Dad," he said. Jared knew his Father always kept his promises.
NCISNCISNCIS
"We need an O2 level right now, please," the lead paramedic requested from his partner as he listened to the federal agent's respiration. "I hear a lot of wheezing which indicates a high level of smoke inhalation and a possible pulmonary contusion." The medical technician turned to make an adjustment, "I'm setting oxygen levels at 100% until further evaluation."
"Any sign of consciousness?" the younger EMT asked.
"He's blinking….I think he might be trying to come around," his partner responded, continuing his assessment of the injured man.
Tony gasped and tried to swallow, but it seemed someone had slipped razor blades down his throat. The pain was excruciating. Beyond any rating scale he had ever been asked to use. His back burned and it felt as if tiny knives had been embedded in his skin. What had happened? He tried to move, but he couldn't; something was holding him down. He couldn't even turn his head to the side. What the hell? He wanted to open his eyes, to see where he was and ask for help with the incredible pain, but his eyelids were leaden, they wouldn't budge. Behind a dull roar he could hear voices, but they were difficult to make out and the words were incomprehensible. Someone placed a hand on his arm and held it there, giving him an anchor. Was it Gibbs? Gibbs was always there when he got hurt. Gibbs would sit with him, watch out for him, make sure it was alright. He tried to say the name, and with great effort managed to barely open his eyes. The green orbs searched for the man he knew would explain everything, and give him some reassurance about what was happening. "Why isn't he here? Who are these people? " Tony asked himself, feeling panicked despite his best effort to calm his racing heart. "Why can't I remember anything? Where is Gibbs?" he thought somewhat frantically.
The paramedic noticed the flickering eyelids and increasing heart rate. The patient was becoming agitated, which he didn't need to do right now. "Agent DiNozzo?" the paramedic spoke to the man, trying to calm him. "You're on your way to the hospital. You can't move because you're strapped to a backboard and we're still assessing your injuries. I promise we'll make you more comfortable as soon as possible. Just stay with me, ok?"
Tony tried to look at the person attached to the voice, but he could only see fuzzy shapes. He wanted to tell him about the ginsu knives slashing at his throat and back, but found the only sound he could make was a low moan. He desperately wanted to take a deep breath, but it seemed impossible to do. Stabbing pains were now erupting in his chest so he could only manage short shallow gasps of air, despite the mask strapped to his face. The paramedic's eyes narrowed in concentration as he noticed the further distress. "I'm finding signs of tachycardia and hypotension. He's still not getting enough oxygen; I think he's going into shock."
"Do we need to intubate?" the second paramedic questioned.
Despite the agony and confusion, Tony was trying to follow the conversation taking place around him; his eyes widened at their words. He didn't want that, but he couldn't stop them, couldn't even tell them no. He was helpless and alone.
The paramedic noticed his reaction. "How far are we from the hospital?" he asked.
"About five minutes," his partner estimated.
The lead medical technician rubbed Tony's arm, "Let's hold off—I'll suggest they insert a central line for extra fluids and maybe we can avoid the respirator."
Tony closed his eyes and tried to breathe more evenly; he would do anything to stay off the ventilator. But his moment of relief was fleeting; pain continued to radiate through him, to the point he was unaware of where it even originated, it just was. It consumed him, and as it pulled him back into velvet darkness, the last thought that came to him was, "Where is Gibbs?"
NCISNCISNCIS
Dr. Donald Mallard was waiting when the ambulance arrived. Ziva had called to tell him of Tony's condition and asked him to meet their friend at the hospital. Mallard readily agreed, but despite her warning that Anthony had been involved in a serious explosion, he still was not prepared for what greeted him as the young man was rushed through the emergency room doors.
"Oh my dear boy," the doctor said, after he introduced himself and received permission to consult with the trauma team. Knowing the group of doctors now attending DiNozzo were highly trained in the injuries Anthony had sustained, Mallard stayed out of their way, observing as the specialists immediately started assessing and treating the critical patient. He stepped closer as a physician said, "Take a look at this—we have a severe neck wound here, but it doesn't look like something that would have happened during the blast."
The doctor had removed the soft collar that was stabilizing Tony's neck to find the bloody and deep cut extending from one side of his throat to the other. Dark purple bruises were scattered across the injured area. "It looks like someone tried to strangle him prior to the explosion. Let's get this cleaned up and x-rayed; I'd say it's added to his respiratory issues."
As the team performed a quick but thorough assessment, Mallard noticed that occasionally Tony's eyes would slide open and he would look around, but there seemed to be little recognition of his surroundings. Several times the staff asked Tony if he could wake up for them, but he seemed unable to do so at their command. The periods of consciousness were random and brief.
"We need to get look at his back," one of the burn specialists indicated after severe spinal trauma had been ruled out.
"Ok, let's roll him on his side," the other physician agreed. Carefully, the entire team moved Tony over so they could check the damage to his back. With several assistants helping keep the unconscious man in position, the specialist quickly removed the slivers of glass and fabric that had been driven into the agent's skin. He thoroughly cleaned the burns before bandaging the area to avoid infection.
Soon, Tony was being sent away for more diagnostic tests to better determine the extent of his injuries. Before leaving to attend the patient, the lead physician paused to address the elderly medical examiner.
"It's really too early to identify all of your friend's injuries, but we do know several things at this point. He is suffering from what we call Primary Blast Injury. The smoke, heat, pressure from the explosion, and the neck wound have all combined to create serious respiratory trauma. We also suspect a pulmonary contusion which should be confirmed by MRI. Although he does have a scalp wound, I don't believe the concussion is serious. His back has some areas of first, second and third degree burns from the fire, as well as multiple cuts from the glass. We'll make sure to check for any shards that have lodged under the skin and remove those," he paused at the long list, realizing it was a frightening litany of damage.
"It will be several hours before we finish the diagnostic part of the process. But I promise I'll come back with an update as soon as I can," he grasped the fellow physician on the arm to provide some reassurance. Even with the Mallard's medical background, the man had taken on a stricken expression.
"Thank you, I'll be waiting," the ME said soberly, watching as the trauma specialist followed Tony through the doors.
NCISNCISNCIS
Director Vance kissed his wife on top of her head and placed a comforting arm across her shoulders. The parents had just been informed that although both children would be kept overnight for observation, neither had been seriously injured enough to require further treatment.
Jackie sighed, "Leon, this was too close."
"I know," he agreed. "My work can be dangerous, but it should never involve the kids like this." He paced through the waiting room.
"Have you heard anything about Agent DiNozzo?" she asked.
"Not yet," the Director replied. "Let me check in with Agents David and McGee and then I'll see what I can find out." He stepped into the hallway while dialing the phone.
NCISNCISNCIS
Re-entering the waiting area, Vance was met by his wife and Doctor Mallard, who were holding hands and talking quietly. They stood to meet him. "Dr. Mallard, I was coming to find you for an update on Agent DiNozzo."
"Well, Director, our poor Anthony has seen better days. He always seems to be putting himself in harm's way, that one. He is being moved to ICU, which is where I am headed now, but I wanted to check on your dear children first. Jackie says they will be fine, which is wonderful news," he declared.
Stepping closer to Vance, the ME lowered his voice, "Director, I was wondering if you have been able to contact Jethro. I dare say he would want to know about this situation, and since he is Anthony's next-of-kin it would be pertinent to have him involved."
"As soon as things settle down I'll try to inform him," the Director stated. "But you know it might be impossible to do. He's deep undercover at this point, and any interruption might jeopardize the operation."
"Yes, yes," Mallard agreed. "It's just that Anthony's condition is rather critical, and I believe Jethro's presence would be a great benefit to the young man." He paused, wondering how far to push the Director regarding the situation. Choosing to wait for now, he said, "I'd better head up to ICU. Jackie, I will check in again before the children are discharged tomorrow."
"Please keep us updated on Agent DiNozzo," she asked the kindly Medical Examiner.
"Of course," he replied, entering the elevator.
Jackie Vance turned to face her husband. "So are you aware that Tony has almost no family to look after him? His father is out of the country and no one knows how to reach him, even if he would return. His mother is dead. No brothers or sisters. According to Dr. Mallard, the closest thing he has to family is Agent Gibbs. And you might be able to get in touch with him? That is completely unacceptable, Leon."
"There are circumstances here you don't understand, Jackie, and I am not at liberty to share them with you even if you are my wife. I will do my best to contact Agent Gibbs, it's just that it might not be possible to do so immediately."
"And until you do contact him? Who is going to watch out for Tony? Do I need to remind you that we might not have our two children here with us if it weren't for him? I'll stay with him myself if I need to," she informed Vance angrily.
"No, you won't," he stated. "Tomorrow you and the children are going to leave town for an extended period under armed protection," He silenced her question with a look. "The two terrorists we killed might not be the only ones trying to harm us. You and the children need to be as far away and safe as possible until I figure out what to do."
He reached over to embrace his wife, who was visibly shaken at his words. "Don't worry, honey. I will take care of all of you and I'll watch out for DiNozzo, too. There's a pretty good chance he just got himself added to the hit list, anyway. Just trust me, ok?" he asked.
"Always," she replied, fiercely returning his hug.
NCISNCISNCIS
Tony found himself in a void between awake and asleep, half aware that he should open his eyes, but unable to send the right commands to make his muscles obey. It felt like being trapped in a weighted cocoon, where his brain knew what it wanted to do but his body had other ideas. He convulsively tried to swallow, only to be met with stabbing and burning sensations, accompanied by gagging and coughing.
DiNozzo could sense someone leaning over him, and then something cold and wet touched his dry and cracked lips. "You can't have any water, but the doctor said this was alright if you want it. It might make your throat feel better," the ice chip slipped into his mouth, allowing the wetness to trickle down his damaged throat. "Gibbs finally made it," Tony thought gratefully.
Another ice chip was offered and he took it, still not finding the strength to open his eyes. As the melting ice slid down his aching throat, Tony once again tried to swallow, but he gagged instead, choking and gasping on the tiny trickle of water. He tried to sit up, discovered he couldn't, and then felt someone carefully raising his head off the pillow. The strong hand cradled his head and kept him from drowning on the small ice cube. The coughing subsided and he groaned miserably. As the ice melted away he finally found the strength to open his eyes and try to thank his boss.
The choking returned as he stared into the face of his benefactor, NCIS Director Leon Vance.
Tony firmly closed his eyes and decided he was sicker than he thought; he was definitely hallucinating. He felt his head gently eased back down on the pillow. He wanted to look around, figure out exactly what was going on, but he was so weak, it was impossible to even raise a finger. The sense of helplessness was frightening.
He was hurting everywhere—his back, his chest, his neck. He felt like a noose was around his throat, it was tight and constricted, and every breath, every heartbeat brought a fresh round of piercing agony. Suddenly, he remembered. The explosion. The pieces that had been floating around in his jumbled brain fell into place.
When he was able to open his heavy eyes again, Vance was still there, in a seat by the bed. The Director stood, hovering close, and asked with what sounded like concern, "Do you need something?"
Mustering all his strength, Tony managed to struggle out a whisper, "Get. The Hell. Out." He punctuated the statement with as much of a glare as he could manage, then promptly passed back out.
