Silence. Thick, suffocating silence.
The only sounds that could be heard in the small room was the hissing of the breathing tube pumping precious oxygen into the occupant of the room's lungs and the beeping of countless machines surrounding him.
It was quiet. Too quiet.
It was eerie how quiet the room was. Not a sound could be heard through the doors and into the hospital room or out the window by the bed. Nothing.
He was still. Too still.
Gibbs didn't like seeing Tony like that. Silent, unmoving, pale, sickly.
It just wasn't Tony.
Tony's energy was almost larger than life. He could be focused and determined when he set his mind to it; he was brave, courageous and fiercely loyal. Gibbs knew that the frat brother playboy persona was a mask Tony pasted on to hide his deep seated insecurities and fears.
But Tony was never this still. Even when he showed overwhelming discipline and determination during a particularly difficult case, he was never this quiet, this silent.
Hell, even when he was sleeping, he was moving. He jerked in his sleep and sometimes mumbled to himself. Gibbs had learned this from the many times the younger man had slept on his couch or in his spare bedroom after a night of cowboy style steaks, bourbon, beer, basement and the boat.
He always thrummed with this hidden energy, this strange kind of happiness, joyfulness, determination. Tony was one of a kind.
That was why it felt all wrong to see him like this.
He looked so small and helpless in the hospital bed. The sheets were pulled up to his waist. He was wearing blue scrubs and Gibbs could see the wires poking out from under the pasty shirt which rode up a little, exposing the flat expanse of smooth, unmarred, tanned, perfect skin and the bottom edge of the white, gauze bandage covering the bullet wound.
He had an IV tube in his left wrist, feeding him some cocktail of drugs to hold off infections and diseases. The tube was to make sure he didn't get pneumonia, something he was much more susceptible to after he'd had the plague.
He'd also lost a lot of blood; from what he'd gathered from what little the doctors had said and what Ducky had said, they'd lost him once in the ambulance and two more times in surgery.
Three times.
Three times his heart had stopped.
Three times he had died and the doctors had managed to bring him back.
Three times Gibbs had almost lost Tony, for good.
His face looked gaunt. He was pale, too pale, and his eyes had dark shadows under them, bruising his sunken in cheeks. It was amazing what one bullet could do.
Tony still hadn't woken up.
He'd fallen into a coma when they'd lost him the third time. The doctors had said his body just couldn't take it anymore, take that abuse on his heart, so his brain had shut down and shut off to protect itself.
That's what the doctors had said.
They also said there was a good chance he'd never wake up. Never. What a final word. Like death. That was a final word too.
One bullet.
One bullet and one heart was broken while another was stopped, multiple times at that.
One bullet to end something that hadn't even begun. Just one. Who knew what one bullet could do?
Gibbs had been sitting beside Tony for nearly 8 hours straight. The minute he'd walked in he hadn't left. Gibbs had dozed in the hard, unforgiving plastic chair by the man's bed and held Tony's hand. But every time he woke up, Tony was still unconscious.
About and hour after he first came in and took up permanent residence by his bed, a nurse had come in and explained visiting hours were over and that he needed to leave. He had been adamant to stay, protesting that he was a federal agent, that he was the younger man's next of kin, medical proxy, best friend.
Countless things; anything to let him stay. At first, she'd been uneasy. But after some prodding, she'd relented and left the room. She came back five minutes later with one of the reclining chairs in the waiting room, stating that as long as he wasn't leaving, he at least needed a more comfortable chair to relax in.
Gibbs had smiled wearily and taken the chair gratefully. Then he'd settled down for a long wait.
He had done nothing more than alternate sipping coffee that his agents and Abby brought to him at regular intervals when they came to visit Tony and staring at the younger man, holding his hand, silently willing him to wake up, to show life in that too still form, pale face and beautiful green eyes that sparkled with mirth.
He wanted his Tony back.
Talk to him, they'd said. It may help him. He may wake up faster.
Right, Gibbs thought almost sarcastically. Talking to an unconscious, unresponsive Tony might help him. Key word here: might.
Gibbs sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. Well, he didn't have anything to lose. What would it hurt to talk to the man, especially if this was going to be the last time he could see him, talk to him, alive.
Gibbs swallowed hard at that thought. No! Don't think like that. He's gonna make it, he'll be fine.
Gibbs leaned forward in the chair. He cleared his throat. "Um, hey DiNozzo." Gibbs rubbed his hand through his hair, trying desperately not to think how stupid this was. "The doctors said that talking to coma patients helps them get better, so I guess I'm gonna try with you." He chuckled. "Although, with you DiNozzo, I'm not sure how much it'll help. You seem to attract trouble, like a damned magnet."
Silence. Awkward silence. And the hissing of the breathing tube.
Gibbs sighed. This was stupid. So stupid. What's the point? Tony can't respond even if he wanted to. Even if he was awake.
Gibbs groaned and leaned forward. He leaned his forehead against Tony's arm and squeezed his hand a little.
He felt Tony's hand move in his. Surprised, Gibbs jerked back and away from Tony's ear and stared at the younger man's unmoving face. His eyelids flickered.
Elated at the signs of movement, Gibbs encouraged him. "That's it Tony, come one, wake up. You can do it."
The hand moved again. Then nothing. Gibbs sighed. "Yah, figured it couldn't be that easy. Not with you anyway." Gibbs leaned back in the chair, still holding Tony's hand.
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Gibbs jerked awake, not even realizing he'd fallen asleep in the first place. Looking around, Gibbs tried to figure out what woke him up. Then he felt the bed moving and heard a moan.
He immediately looked over at Tony and was surprised to see the younger man in such distress. His brows were creased and he was sweating and panting.
He heard another moan.
That's when it hit him; Tony was having a nightmare.
Gibbs immediately moved to Tony's side and tried to calm him down. The machines were going crazy, beeping loudly and fast. He noticed that in the dream, Tony had somehow knocked the IV loose. Gibbs wouldn't be surprised if the nurses came running in here any second.
"Tony!" Gibbs shouted. "Tony, stop! Wake up, it's just a dream!" There was no response.
Gibbs growled and instinctively gave him a gentler version of his usual headslap. "DiNozzo! Stop!" The jerking stopped. The beeping stopped. Tony calmed down completely. Gibbs breathed a sigh of relief.
Tony's eyelids started to flicker. Gibbs leaned closer, studying the man's face. All of a sudden, Gibbs was looking into the stunning green of his agents' eyes. Tony looked around and his gaze caught on Gibbs'. He looked surprised to see him.
Gibbs smiled and shook his head. "Hey, DiNozzo. Finally decided to join the land of the living?" Tony's eyes brightened and he seemed to be smiling the best he could around the tube in his throat.
Gibbs chuckled. "It's good to see those eyes." He whispered, mostly to himself, but Tony seemed to have heard him if the shocked and confused look Tony was giving him was anything to go by.
They were interrupted by medical staff and personnel rushing into the room. The doctor was surprised and relieved to see Tony awake. "Oh, good! Your awake." He glanced over at Gibbs and noticed how close he was to the bed. "How'd you get him to wake up?"
Gibbs shrugged. "Head slapped him."
The doctor chuckled. "Very unconventional, but seeing as it worked I'm not complaining."
Just then, Ducky walked in. "Yes, well Jethro is a very unconventional man." When he noticed Tony staring at him, he grinned. "It's very good to see you awake, dear boy."
Tony nodded.
Tony looked up and met Gibbs' eyes, then pointed at the tube. Gibbs understood and looked at the doctor. "He wants the tube out."
The doctor nodded. "Right, we'll do that right away then. That shouldn't be too much trouble." He glanced over at one of the nurses. "Could you help me, please?" she nodded and together they were able to carefully remove the tube from Tony's throat.
Tony winced when it was gone and swallowed a couple times. The doctor noticed. "Yes, it's certainly going to be a little uncomfortable and painful. Could you try talking for me?"
Tony cleared his throat and swallowed again. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He looked at the doctor worriedly.
He shook his head and looked around, then handed Gibbs a plastic cup full of ice chips. "Here, Agent Gibbs, give Tony a few ice chips." He looked at Tony. "Now, Tony, swallow slowly. Suck on the ice a little and it should help your throat."
Tony opened his mouth and Gibbs placed an ice chip on his tongue. Tony sucked on it and swallowed very slowly. When he opened his mouth again to speak, his voice came out choked and hoarse. "Hey." He winced. Gibbs noticed and gave him some more ice, which Tony sucked on gratefully.
He tried again. "When can I – leave?" Tony coughed a little and scrunched his eyes.
The doctor looked bewildered. "Well, I have to check you're vitals now and make sure nothing else could and will go wrong. I want to keep you here in observation and if everything seems fine then you can leave in at least a day."
Tony grimaced at the bad news. Gibbs shook his head. "Could be worse, DiNozzo." A lot worse. You could be dead. Gibbs finished to himself. He didn't say that part out loud.
The doctor smiled. "Now, we should probably see what you remember. Concussions are dangerous and mixed with a coma I wouldn't be surprised if you had some slight memory loss."
Tony's eyes showed the concern as his gut twisted. Memory loss?
The doctor cleared his throat. "Now, what's the year?"
Tony opened his mouth and choked out. "2012." Gibbs gave him another ice chip which Tony sucked slowly until it melted down his throat.
The doctor nodded. "Correct. Who's the president?"
"O—bama."
"Right. Where do you work?"
"NCIS." Tony coughed. Nodding, the doctor looked around and then pointed to Gibbs.
"Who's that?"
Tony squinted at Gibbs. "Agent McGee."
Gibbs glanced at the doctor. Suddenly, Tony grinned.
Still grinning, Tony looked up at Gibbs. "How could I forget you, Boss."
Chuckling, Gibbs shook his head. "He's fine."
The doctor smiled. "Yes he certainly does seem fine. I'm actually surprised how well he's doing under the circumstances."
Gibbs smirked. "That's Tony for you. Got a hard head."
Tony smiled. "You would know, Boss. I think you've hit me harder than any concussion I've ever gotten. Probably should have some brain injury, a deformity or something." Tony rubbed the back of his head like he expected to find something wrong with it.
Gibbs didn't say anything but hid a smirk around a sip of coffee.
The doctor chuckled. "Yes well, I think seeing as how you're doing so well, you can probably be out of here by tomorrow, at the latest."
Tony smiled that famous DiNozzo smile. "Alright!" He pumped a fist in the air and grinned over at Gibbs, his face showing the genuine happiness.
Gibbs shook his head and chuckled. It was good to see Tony smile like that. That was the happiest Gibbs had seen the younger man in a long time.
The doctor smiled. "If you two gentlemen don't mind I have some other patients to attend to." The doctor looked at Tony. "Tony, some nurses will be here in about an hour to take you to your CT scan." Tony nodded. The doctor said goodbye and then walked out of the room.
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Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait guys, I've been busy. Know there's really no excuse and no coincidences, as Gibbs would no doubt say, but I'm trying here.
Read and Review!
Love,
TonyDiNozzo42