A/N: Here I am with a (hopefully) good chapter. I have already gotten many threatening messages, concerning my well being if I left the story unfinished. I apologize for the wait as well. These past few weeks have been . . . hectic. To put it nicely.
So, here is the next and (unfortunately) not last chapter. :P As much as I wanted to . . .
Gibbs stared at his hands; the rough calluses that covered them. Hands that could've saved his agent. His friend. His son. Hands that had, just minutes before, been pressed to Tony's chest, desperately trying to stem the flow of vital red leaking out of his agent.
Gibbs raised his shaky hands to his face, trying hard not to remember whose blood was covering them. Slowly, he drew his hands down his face, leaving red streaks in their wake. His blue eyes were unfocused, Tony's bloody frame forever imprinted on his brain
He let loose a large sigh and stared at his hands once more. Hands that, thankfully, hadn't been needed to save his agent. Not from death. Not today.
Agent McGee stood dazed as the ambulance holding his friend sped away, its sirens clearing a path for the bloodied and broken agent.
Tony had lost consciousness again when the ambulance had arrived. Gibbs gave a McGee one look from where he was kneeled, next to Tony's inert form, and McGee nodded, understanding in a glance. He hopped up and trotted over to the ambulance as the paramedics burst out, immediately shouting questions, some rhetorical but most demanding answers. As an elderly one planted himself in front of him, McGee tried to answer the questions as best he could. Ziva remained silent and only spoke when the paramedic glanced questioningly at the body lying several yards away.
The remaining paramedics had rushed over to the two unmoving bodies lying on the pavement, quickly earning them a snap from Gibbs. He didn't need confused, rookie paramedics attending to a dead man while another died under his blood soaked hands.
After they had Tony stabilized, they loaded him into the ambulance and whisked him off to Bethesda, Gibbs in tow. McGee and Ziva were supposed to stay and help the younger NCIS field team process the scene. One look at Ziva's blank face and one frantic call from Abby later had McGee heading towards the car, leaving the slightly anxious calls of the young probationary agents in his wake.
McGee grasped Ziva's elbow and gently steered her to the passenger's side of the car, without saying a word. He walked around the car and slid into the driver's seat. He put the car in reverse and pulled out of the lot, sneaking looks and Ziva as he did.
As he whipped out and onto the street, tires squealing in a way Gibbs would be proud of, he felt a warm hand envelope his own.
He smiled at Ziva and she squeezed his hand, a small smile on her lips.
They sped off towards the hospital.
They had taken Tony into surgery almost immediately after he arrived at the hospital. Still overcome by the events of the last two hours, Gibbs tried to follow them in but was stopped by a grizzly looking nurse, who gave him a pointed glare and gestured towards the seat by the door. Returning the glare with one of his own, he stood defiantly, glancing between the nurse and the door.
He was about to bust right through the doors to the ER when his cell phone rang. He glared at it for a moment, reading the caller ID, and then glared at the nurse, who gestured in a not so subtle hint to take whatever he had outside.
Snarling under his breath, he stalked outside and flipped open the cell phone and barked his usual greeting.
"Oh dear," the unusually grave voice fretted, "That bad, hm?"
Gibbs sighed angrily, pacing around the courtyard before finally plopping down on a bench facing the fountain.
"Jethro?" The worried voice came through the phone.
"Yeah Duck," he whispered, his glare dying as he spoke, leaving him looking blank as he stared at nothing, "That bad."
Ducky sighed, knowing that his friend would be nearly insufferable until Anthony returned safe and sound to his rather unorthodox NCIS family. Unfortunately, Gibbs' somewhat overprotective and biased opinion of the boy didn't help his attempt at gathering over-the-phone information.
"Mr. Palmer and I will be there as soon as we can," he paused, thinking, then chuckled, "And Abby too, of course. She's been having a bit of a nervous breakdown," Ducky's voice grew hesitant, unsure, "Her, ah, gut, seems to be telling her that this altercation that young Anthony was involved in was a little more serious than McGee let over on the phone."
Gibbs merely sighed again, wincing as he imagined how Abby would act. She would tear into the hospital in her platform boots and her running mascara, demanding that they let her in to see a "Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo". When no one would respond, she would turn her accusing eyes on him, angrily pleading with him to do something. He wouldn't say anything, merely open his arms and hold her while she sobbed against his chest and mumbled almost incoherently about how Tony always seemed to get himself into these situations and how the bad guys always seem to hurt him. He would stand there, rubbing her back, and offer the only comfort he really could. His presence.
"Thanks Duck," he said, trying to get a better handle on his unfamiliar emotions as he snapped the phone shut on Ducky's silent reply. He quickly slid his Marine façade on as he burst through the doors of the hospital, making all it its occupants jump. The nurse leapt up again and merely glowered at him. Tempted to give her a good ass chewing, he took a menacing step forward. Somewhat satisfied when she took a startled step back, he allowed a small grin to play across his face. It quickly died when he remembered why he was there, playing tug-o-war with a nurse in the first place.
Finally, he shut his eyes and sighed, slumping into the closest chair. Gibbs sat there, right next to the door separating him from his agent. He hoped that only the door was separating Tony from him, and not death itself.
When McGee and Ziva arrived at the hospital, they found Gibbs in the worse state they could have imagined. Grieving.
His head was buried in his shaking hands. He didn't look up at the sound of their approach, and Ziva looked at him, horrified that she may have missed Tony's . . .
McGee shook his head silently. The Boss wouldn't be so calm if Tony were dead. He's be tearing around, yelling at nurses and scaring the shit out of the families and hospital employees. Not silent . . . no. He was waiting. Grieving before he'd even been given word.
Ziva nodded, her face grim. She reached out to touch him, her words cut off as her heart leapt in her throat. Quietly, she sat down in the chair beside him. Gibbs straightened himself silently and watched her. Hesitantly, she leaned her head against his shoulder. When he didn't move from her, she moved closer, tucking her head in the crook of his neck and burying her face in his shoulder, her eyes squeezed shut. Gibbs brought a hand up to her head and held her closer, not saying a word as her tears leaked out and slid down her face, soaking his blood-stained shirt.
McGee opened his mouth and quickly shut it, deciding it was wise not to disturb the ex-Marine and the ex-Mossad assassin. He turned to leave when he felt Gibbs' questioning gaze. Glancing back, he saw his boss was staring at him and looked like he was trying hard not to laugh.
McGee stared back, confusion written between the lines of pain and worry almost consuming his face. Gibbs shook his head minutely, careful not to disturb the now sleeping Israeli. He gestured at the chair next to Ziva and felt a surge of pride as McGee took a deep breath, carefully calming whatever emotions were swirling beneath the surface, and sat down next to Ziva, careful not to disturb her.
Within minutes, he was asleep as well, one hand holding Ziva's; his head back against the wall, his neck slightly angled. It was a position that could only be uncomfortable.
Gibbs smiled at the peaceful scene, happy to watch as the lines of exhaustion and dread was wiped from his team's faces by the kind of bliss that only a deep and dreamless sleep could bring.
There were some things that never changed, no matter how many times you woke up in a hospital. There was always the sound of machinery beeping and a ventilator whooshing; these things both a comfort and a cause for concern.
Tony hated hospitals. He hated waking up disoriented, confused, scared and alone, as he had many times before he had reached the age or 18. As an adult, he had liked them even less. Waking up in a clean, silent, perfect hospital when the last thing you remembered was a ferocious gun fight and blinding pain, was not reassuring. The first time he was shot, he was fairly sure he had died. He realized shortly, that there were no red-faced bosses to fire you for putting yourself in the line of fire in the afterlife.
His first time injured at NCIS was thanks to an over-excited petty officer who was more than a little trigger happy. The wound was not too serious and Tony insisted that he didn't need to be kept overnight. But doctors never seem to agree, especially when they learn some peculiar fact about you while you're unconscious. Such as the fact that his next of kin was a fictional character from one of his favorite movies. And the fact that your boss seemed at a loss about your 'rather spotty' past.
That was when Gibbs had marched his way over to the nurse's desk, brushing past Ducky, and signed himself as Tony's next of kin. Tony, who was both shocked and touched by the ex-Marine's gesture, had never changed it. Except when Gibbs had 'retired' to Mexico. Ducky had insisted that he change it. Ducky, ever helpful, offered to be his next of kin. Tony agreed. The elderly doctor both knew of and understood Tony's rather unusual medical history, or lack of in some cases. It changed when Gibbs had came back, and Tony had almost gotten blown to bits by someone trying to kill his girlfriend/undercover assignment. Gibbs had stayed on his medical list while Tony was at sea, and stayed when he came home. Tony didn't know of anyone else who would better fit the slot, including his father.
Tony no longer hated hospitals. At least, not as much as he used to. As he listened to the solid breathing of the person in the chair next to him, he smiled and let himself relax in the unfamiliar room, Gibbs' presence comforting more than he could ever tell him.
Gibbs hated to see Tony in a hospital bed. It was unnerving for him to see the usually buoyant man so unnaturally still and it brought back the awful memories of Tony's numerous visits to Bethesda Medical Hospital. Tony in a blue room, fighting a demon that Gibbs could not help him with, except an order to survive. Tony, with his numerous concussions, gunshot and stab wounds. Not to mention the broken arm he had sustained as a child, and whatever other injuries he had been dealt.
Gibbs had been there for all of it, Tony's next of kin since that first case. That first injury, as well. Gibbs had been livid, learning that Tony's next of kin was a fictional character from his favorite movies. He marched his way over to the nurse's desk, brushing past Ducky, yanked a pen out of the container and, pressing the pen in so deep that he almost ripped the paper, signed himself as Tony's next of kin. He tossed the pen onto the surface and made his way back to the room where DiNozzo was resting peacefully, the pain medication and sedative relaxing his features in a way that Gibbs had never seen.
When Gibbs had fled to Mexico, taking time to sort out his heart, mind, soul and memories, he had forgotten about Tony. He knew that leaving, at least the way he did, was not his best decision. His memory, being fuzzy at best, made him forget how much they needed him. And, if he was being totally honest with himself, made him forget how much he needed them. He never expected anything to change. Not their trust in him or the team atmosphere. Not even the team itself.
He returned to find Tony a different man; worn, stressed, worried, tired, looking for all the world like a little boy in his father's shoes. McGee was a different man; confident, smug even. Ziva was . . . not the same either. Both had taken whatever respect they had for Tony, both personally and professionally, and tossed it out the window, making his job a living hell. He was pale and had wrinkles of pain around his eyes that had been absent before Gibbs' flight to Mexico.
When Gibbs had returned, he had neither mentioned or offered to, once again, be Tony's next of kin. Not until Tony had been almost killed by his car exploding. Gibbs, who had still thought of himself as Tony's next of kin, had his thoughts buzzing with the horrible thought of having to organize Tony's upcoming funeral. When Ducky dismally told him of his very similar thought, Gibbs was surprised. He asked Ducky when, exactly, Tony had changed it.
Ducky, a little worse for wear, had irritably replied, "When you quit, Jethro!" And had gone into a lecture about how Tony needed someone who was in the country, to be on his medical contact list. Gibbs had bit the inside of his cheek and said nothing, letting Ducky get all of his frustration, muted grief and pain out.
Although the Medical Examiner had apologized many times over for his outburst, Gibbs still had a heavy heart ridden with guilt and regret. When Tony had turned up at the NCIS building, looking like crap but still alive, Gibbs had wasted no time replacing Ducky's name with his own on Tony's medical paper.
Tony no longer hated hospitals. At least, not as much as he did when he first jumped ship from Baltimore PD to NCIS. Gibbs liked to thing that it had something to do with him never leaving Tony's side except for coffee and when Ducky and the medical staff practically shoved him out the door, with a not so subtle hit that he could use a shower and change of clothes. But most of the time, he didn't care. Gibbs would sit in the uncomfortable chair next to Tony bedside, with a cup of coffee and a book or magazine, and wait for his agent to wake. Most times, he slept at the hospitals too, much to Ducky's and the nurses' displeasure. And though Tony never mentioned it, Gibbs was pretty sure that his presence was comforting. If anything, at least Tony knew that he wasn't alone anymore.
A/N: Sorry about the stop there. :P As much as I wanted to, I couldn't fit it all into one chapter. This is more of a filler chapter than anything. So . . . reviews please? I promise the next (and last) chapter will be up before long.