Note: Thank you for your support, alerts and reviews. All greatly appreciated.
Warning: This chapter contains a traumatic injury to a child and subsequent medical procedures. I am not a medical professional and while I have taken care to be as accurate and credible as I can, I have acted on the assumption that you'd rather read a story than a medical journal and hope any oversights, shortcuts or errors can be forgiven in favour of the story. :)
In loco parentis
Chapter 2.
The usually imperturbable Doctor Donald Mallard looked uncharacteristically harried as he bustled from the elevator and headed for the nurses' station. He turned at the sound of his name and saw Kate approaching with a cup of coffee in one hand and concern marring her attractive face.
"Thanks for coming, Ducky, I know it's late," she said taking hold of his elbow and guiding him further down the corridor.
"Not at all, my dear," the doctor replied. "Is there any news of the boy?"
"Still in surgery," Kate replied. "It's touch and go."
"Good Lord," he whispered, with a shake of his head. "And Jethro?"
They stopped in front of the closed door to the male staff locker room.
"He's in there. He's…."
She took a moment to choose her words carefully.
"Caitlyn?"
"I've never seen him like this before, Ducky. We've worked dozens of cases involving kids and Gibbs has always been great with them…but this is different…he's different."
"He does seem to have developed a deep affection for the boy."
"It's more than that; he completely lost it at the crime scene. If McGee and Mitchell hadn't pulled him away from one of Grosvenor's men, I think Gibbs would have killed him."
"Oh my, I see what you mean. How long has he been in there?"
"About 15 minutes. The doctors wouldn't let him into the surgical waiting room while he was covered in blood."
"Was he injured?"
Kate shook her head solemnly.
"It was the boy's blood."
"I see…although given your description of his behaviour at the crime scene, I am surprised that Jethro agreed so readily," Ducky replied.
"I told you, Ducky, this has really rattled him. I have to get back…can you?" Kate pointed with her chin at the closed door and raised the cup of still steaming coffee.
"Ah…" Ducky chuckled. "To tame the wild beast?"
"Something like that," she smiled as she started down the corridor. Only a few steps away, she turned back, the concerned frown reappearing on her face. "Ducky?"
"I'll call you as soon as there's any news," he anticipated.
He watched as she continued to the elevator then, with a weary sigh, he entered the locker room.
Dressed in a borrowed surgical scrub top, Gibbs stood at the sink repeatedly pressing the button on the liquid soap dispenser. Frantically scrubbing his skin with a nailbrush, he lathered both arms to the elbow before turning on the faucet and plunging them under the scalding water. He watched in sickening horror as the water turned red with Tony's life-force as it swirled down the drain. Raising his hands to inspect them, he saw the faint stains of blood still evident in the creases of his hands and fingers and remembered how the coppery liquid had been warm and slick as he'd tried to stem the bleeding from the small boy's back.
He closed his eyes against the too-vivid memory, knowing the image of Tony bleeding out in his arms was etched indelibly into his mind. Gibbs was a man who had experienced the horrors of war and had witnessed bloody atrocities right here at home. He was at a loss to understand why the hurt and suffering of this little boy affected him so deeply – but it did. Bile burned the back of his throat and he fled to the nearest cubicle, emptying the meagre contents of his stomach. Flushing the toilet, he walked on shaking legs back to the sink and scrubbed his face with cold water. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, barely recognising the haunted eyes that returned his gaze and then grew bleak with recall…
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Gibbs answered his cell to the sound of Tony's young voice, shrill and trembling with terror as he pleaded for Gibbs to help him. Though the details were shrouded in sobs of fear and barely controlled panic, Gibbs understood enough – two unknown men had broken into the DiNozzo home and were beating the boy's father.
The agency car surged forward as he forced the gas pedal to the floor and watched the odometer needle jump violently as he steered toward the DiNozzo residence.
"Tony, we're on our way," he said tucking his cell into the crook of his neck as he rounded a tight corner. "We'll be there in a few minutes. I want you to find someplace safe and hide. Do you understand?"
"They're hurting my Dad, Agent Gibbs," the boy sobbed. "I have to help him!"
"Listen to me, Tony, you helped your Dad by calling us. Now I need you to hide where those men won't find you, okay?"
"Okay, I'll-"
The sound of yelling preceded two gunshots and Gibbs' blood ran cold at the sound of the boy's terrified scream.
"Nooooo!"
"Tony! Tony!" Gibbs yelled into dead air as the connection dropped out.
Urging every unit of horsepower from the sedan, Gibbs was barely aware of the rapid discussions taking place in the car until his agents reported back to him.
"Fornell's on his way, Gibbs," Kate said, holding tightly to the doorframe as they took another turn at near breakneck speed.
"EMT's and LEO's are en route, Boss," McGee stated from the back. "They've been alerted that there's a child on scene."
Even before Gibbs had stopped the car, Mitchell was out and running for the sturdy iron gates protecting the DiNozzo residence. Finding the electronic lock shattered, he pushed the gates open and allowed the car entry. Switching the headlights off, Gibbs drove forward quickly and parked in the shadows. Climbing from the car the agents donned their vests and quietly entered the darkened house. Using hand signals, Gibbs immediately ordered Kate and Mitchell to clear the upstairs rooms and look for Tony.
Moving stealthily into the living room, Gibbs and McGee located the body of Anthony DiNozzo Senior lying face down on the floor. Kneeling, McGee felt for a pulse then shook his head grimly. The former marine felt his chest tighten at the thought of more sorrow ahead for the young boy.
Sounds from the study caught their attention and the agents moved forward to stand either side of the door. Receiving a nod to proceed, McGee kicked the door opened and the agents moved in. Shouting loudly, they identified themselves as federal agents and ordered the men to put their hands in the air. A large bald man turned and fired hastily at the agents, the bullet narrowly missing McGee's head. Gibbs placed two rounds into the man's chest and the other man immediately surrendered. McGee searched the men for ID and produced their wallets. The dead man's licence identified him as Ivan Grant while the other man was known as Bill Sturges.
Having cleared the upstairs rooms and the remainder of the house, Kate and Mitchell arrived in the study.
"Tony?" Gibbs asked anxiously.
"Couldn't find him, Boss," Mitchell replied.
"Check again, under the beds, in the cupboards, in the attic - anywhere a kid could hide," Gibbs said, leading the way and calling to the frightened boy.
After a more thorough check of the house the boy was still missing and Gibbs returned to the study with fierce intent evident in his blue eyes. Grabbing two fistfuls of the larger man's shirt, the lead agent forced him back against the wall with a sickening thud.
"Where's the boy?" Gibbs hissed.
"I don't know," Sturges replied.
The agent raised his forearm and thrust it against Sturges' windpipe effectively pinning him to the wall by the neck.
"You've just taken your last breath," the lead agent snarled applying more pressure.
"I didn't see him, I swear!" Sturges choked out.
"Not good enough!" Gibbs seethed, tightening his grip further and cutting off the man's air supply.
Sturges' eyes bulged fearfully as he struggled for air. His face rapidly changed colour and a large vein throbbed prominently on his forehead.
"Let him go, Gibbs!" Kate told him worriedly. "He's our link to Grosvenor – you kill him and Tony's father died for nothing."
When Gibbs failed to respond, McGee and Mitchell exchanged an anxious look and moved in, physically restraining the lead agent and hauling him away from the gasping man. Jerking his arms from his agents grip Gibbs fought to suppress his incandescent fury. He drew his weapon and aimed it fixedly at Sturges' heart.
"Last chance. Where is the boy?" he demanded through tightly clenched teeth.
"I…I heard him yell when…when Grant offed his old man but…I didn't see where he went. I came in here and Grant went outside after the kid."
Gibbs' eyes widened as realisation struck. He turned quickly and urged his bad knee beyond its limitations as he sprinted from the house, across the manicured lawn toward Tony's favourite tree. The sound of sirens drew nearer as he desperately called the boy's name and squinted into the darkness. Icy tendrils of fear clenched tightly around his heart as he saw the small form lying face down and frighteningly still at the base of the tree.
'Oh, no, no, no, no, no!' his mind screamed as he forced himself to keep running.
Skidding to a stop at Tony's side, Gibbs dropped to one knee and with trembling fingers he fumbled for the pulse point below the boy's jaw line. His thoughts came to a halt as he stared in growing horror at the blood that had saturated Tony's shirt. The former marine's heart hammered as if it was about to burst from his chest as he realised there was no pulse. His mind refused the possibility of death even as his hands presented him with proof. No pulse. No breathing. No life.
"We need a medic!" he yelled as he gently lifted Tony's shirt to see blood flowing freely from the bullet wound in the boy's back. His panic growing, Gibbs pressed down on the wound with the heel of his hand, feeling Tony's blood pumping out from beneath it.
'God, no!' his mind pleaded. 'This isn't happening.'
The sound of running feet registered in his consciousness as Kate and McGee arrived. Together, they gently manoeuvred the boy onto his back and immediately started CPR and rescue breathing.
"Come on, Tony, don't do this," Gibbs urged quietly. "Breathe!"
Time appeared to stand still until the command to move out of the way broke him from his living nightmare. He looked up to see the EMT's moving into position and taking over CPR from Kate and McGee. They instantly got to work on the boy, placing an ambu bag over his nose and mouth and setting up a portable defibrillator.
Steeling his features into professional detachment, Gibbs watched helplessly as the EMT's shocked the small body three times before attaining sinus rhythm. The medical-speak was beyond him as were the names of the life-saving fluids being administered by IV but as the boy was lifted onto a gurney and placed in the back of an ambulance the former marine new one thing for certain - his place was with Tony.
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"Jethro?" Ducky's concerned voice disturbed his recollections and brought his focus back to the present. "Caitlyn thought you might be in need of a coffee."
As he reached for the cup Gibbs' lips quirked in silent thanks.
"Any news on Tony?" he asked.
"I've only just arrived," Ducky replied. "Caitlyn said the lad was still in surgery."
"They shot him, Duck," Gibbs said in a hoarse whisper. "He was trying to hide and the bastards shot him in the back."
The ME silently appraised his friend. He had known Leroy Jethro Gibbs for many years but rarely had he seen the look of raw vulnerability his friend was now exhibiting. Whatever else this child had done, he had managed to tear down the walls the former marine had constructed around his heart. The boy was in surgery fighting for his life but the man was wounded soul deep.
"It's going to be a long night," Ducky said. "What say we find somewhere to wait with comfortable chairs, an endless supply of coffee?"
Glad for the company, Gibbs nodded and followed Ducky from the locker room.
Over the next few hours while Tony was still in surgery, Gibbs had McGee work with hospital officials to establish the boy's next of kin. While he had no known relatives in the US, his father's younger brother lived with his wife in Geneva, Switzerland and hospital counsellors were endeavouring to contact them.
Ducky used his connections at the hospital to arrange for Gibbs to stay with Tony, arguing that although they were not related, it was Gibbs the boy called when he had needed help. Eventually, Tony was transferred from the recovery ward to a cubicle in the PICU and a sombre looking surgeon approached, identifying himself as Doctor Leigh McNally. Ducky watched the colour drain from his friend's usually unreadable face as the doctor explained the boy's condition.
The bullet wound to Tony's back had ruptured his spleen and nicked his left kidney and colon. While the kidney and colon were surgically repaired and would heal without further complication, the spleen had to be removed. The splenic rupture had caused massive blood loss that had impeded the boy's blood and oxygen circulation and caused him to suffer a cardiac arrest. Preliminary testing had indicated that the child had been clinically dead for several minutes.
"Minutes?" Gibbs repeated, his expression remaining neutral but his eyes telegraphed his deep concern.
"Due to lack of oxygen, brain damage is almost guaranteed after four minutes," McNally advised.
"What kind of brain damage," he asked the doctor.
"We won't really know the extent of the damage until he wakes."
Gibbs' insistent glare told the doctor that he was not going to be so easily put off. With a weary sigh, McNally continued to explain other possible complications.
"Cerebral hypoxia can result in a number of conditions including difficulty learning complex tasks, short-term memory loss, or the ability to express emotions or interpret what one sees," Doctor McNally explained. "It can also lead to much more serious issues such as epilepsy, problems with speech and language, paralysis and in extreme cases it can leave the patient in a vegetative state."
Gibbs grazed his thumb and forefinger over sleep deprived eyes.
"The good news is that Tony's brain wave patterns have ruled out vegetative state," McNally said. "But unfortunately, beyond that, all I can suggest is that you hope for the best but prepare for the worst."
"Can we see him?" Gibbs asked.
"Of course. You should know that we've placed Tony in an induced coma and he's currently on a ventilator to allow his body to concentrate on healing. Over the next 48 hours, we'll be using an EEG to monitor his brain activity. Try not to be put off by the amount of equipment and tubing, we have excellent staff and facilities here and Tony is in very good hands."
By the time they entered the PICU, the sun was just beginning to send a few timid streams of light through the dark sky. McNally was right; the sight of the small boy, connected to a variety of life-sustaining machines and monitors was almost Gibbs' undoing. Tony looked lost in the large bed. His hair was plastered to his forehead, his cheeks flushed with post-operative fever. The little chest rose and fell unnaturally to the hissing sound of the ventilator. Twenty small electrodes were carefully glued to his forehead and scalp, the wires interconnecting to the EEG. Gibbs moved closer to the bed, leaned over the rail and cupped the young boy's face with a gentle hand.
"I'm here, Tony," he whispered. "You're not alone."
Ducky moved to the end of the bed and removed the boy's chart, casting a discerning eye over the notations.
"He's comfortable and isn't in any pain," he informed his friend "The ventilator is not breathing for him, it's helping him to breathe. The machine allows him to take some breaths by himself and it takes over when he gets tired."
The ME watched as Gibbs pushed a long, damp strand of hair from the boys face while gently rubbing his arm. Fatigued by a sleepless night of concern, Ducky moved the two chairs by the wall closer to the bed and the men sat down. Gibbs leaned forward and reached out, seemingly needing constant contact with the boy. Ducky had just begun to doze when Gibbs spoke.
"What happens if his uncle can't take him?"
"I expect that would depend on his parents' wishes," Ducky replied. "A man with the financial status of Anthony's father would surely have made plans for his family and his estate."
"And if he didn't?"
"On the remote chance that no arrangements were made and, of course, if his uncle chose not to take custody, the court would appoint a guardian for Anthony."
"Social Services."
"Perhaps, but I would exp-" Ducky stopped abruptly and looked at his friend. "You're not considering becoming the boy's legal guardian?"
The agent shrugged.
"That's up to Tony."
"Jethro, I know you're taken with the boy and believe me, I could think of no better man to be a part of his life. But to raise him alone? The child is going to have special needs. He may even require around the clock care."
"He's a little boy, Duck. He's badly hurt and he's alone. He needs someone who cares about him."
"I couldn't agree more. All I'm saying is that you need to think this through. Do you honestly believe that you could be the sole carer of a special needs child when you work such extraordinary hours?"
"I'm not saying I wouldn't need help, Duck," Gibbs said. "I'll speak to Vance - see if he can cut through some red tape. Then I'll resign and take my pension. I got enough savings to hire some help if we need it."
"You're really serious? You'd resign from NCIS?"
"Did two tours of the Gulf and worked for NCIS for more years than I can count. I served my country, Duck."
"Yes, yes of course you did, no one is disputing that," Ducky said, noting that his friend had not broken contact with the boy since they entered the room. He recognised the set of the agent's jaw and huffed out a laugh. "He must be quite a remarkable lad."
"He is," Gibbs replied feeling his throat close up.
"Then, my friend, should circumstances warrant, you will have my full support in whatever decision you make."
They continued their silent vigil and with Ducky snoring softly beside him, Gibbs tried to clear his mind. When Shannon and Kelly died, he'd been overwhelmed by grief and the guilt that he hadn't been there to protect them. Buried under the weight of his pain, he continued to exist but stopped living. Was life about to hand him a second chance? He looked at the little boy in the bed and felt his heart constrict at the physical and emotional pain that waited for him when he woke. Ducky was right, there were a hundred things standing in the way of his becoming Tony's legal guardian. While he did not fully understand the overwhelming urge to do so, he knew without doubt, that he needed this little boy in his life.
Thanks again for the support.
