A/N: thanks for your interest! Biting my nails on this chapter in hope that it works for everyone the way I hope it will. :}
To those of you who reviewed, thank you! Still hope to hear from you, especially your reactions to this part... :D
Spumoni
Part II
As compared to other waiting room vigils she'd sat, Ziva had to admit to herself that this one was one of the less stressful, at least once she'd spoken with Ducky, who, within eight minutes, had gotten Tony's pulmonologist on the phone with the physician on duty at the small, rural trauma center – and really, Tony did have a doctor named Brad Pitt, after all? – and, thereafter, with her. And Tony's Dr. Pitt assured Ziva that all signs pointed to an early but manageable bronchial infection that he predicted would be less likely to slow Tony down than the laceration they were preparing to repair, as soon as they finished bringing his temperature up to near-normal.
As she waited with him, Ziva reflected on what a difference bullets or bombs made to the mix: of course Tony's lethargy and threatened hypothermia were nothing to sneeze at (a measure of her mood was her making a mental note to work that near-pun into a conversation with him as soon as possible), but she was comforted by her last conversation with Ducky, who, upon reviewing the intake notes he'd been e-mailed by the hospital staff, was clucking about the "foolhardy lad" and his plans to give him "a stern talking to" when he awoke, the doctor's voice carrying concern more with the agent's repeated failure to consider his own welfare than with his chances of survival. He would be fine, Ziva interpreted.
He'd been woozy and more asleep than awake, but the look she saw in his eyes one of those moments when he was awake, a vulnerable, apprehensive look, convinced Ziva she would not leave his side. He almost died of the plague, she reminded herself yet again, and the worst of that time was in a hospital, probably feeling as if his lungs were betraying him ... any rasp or wheeze would probably be frightening, even now...
She looked down at her hand, firmly wrapped around his, and shifted it a little to hold it even closer. She let her eyes flicker up to his face, taking in the familiar features now relaxed in sleep. She'd seen him asleep before of course, undercover and elsewhere, even in the squad room, but this time was different. Was it the trauma? His exhaustion? Or the sterile glare of the hospital cubicle?
...or was it her?
She blinked away her thoughts as one of the medical staff came in pushing a small rolling table prepared with what she recognized as a suture tray. "Still pretty groggy, is he?"
Ziva smiled and nodded. "More asleep than awake."
"Well, he had a day, I hear," the woman smiled up at her. "Found five babies changed to the floor of some hunter's shed? This man's a hero."
Ziva opened her mouth to correct the woman, that it had not been babies involved at all, but children between nine and thirteen years old, until she saw her expression as she looked at her patient and realized that this kind soul would see all children – maybe even some well into adulthood – as "babies." Ziva smiled to herself and nodded. "Yes, he is," she agreed softly.
At which the "hero" managed a wide, dopey grin. "You're a witness, Suzanne," he mumbled, after opening an eye only long enough to see which of the several staff members had come in. "Ziva David thinks I'm a hero."
Ziva rolled her eyes to avoid chuckling. And even in this condition he has learned the names of the people here, she noted. "Did his doctor tell you all that he gets quite demented with pain-killers?" she asked 'Suzanne.' At the woman's questioning glance in return, she quickly added, "oh, he is not at all dangerous, just ... slaphappy."
"'Slaphappy?'" Tony grumbled. "How is it you still turn around basic English but you know 'slaphappy?'"
"Because I work with you, Tony," she assured him.
It was a testament to how much he needed to spend the night under medical observation that Tony didn't rouse enough to complain about staying when they moved him out of the emergency department to a room on the small hospital's second floor. Assured that between the medication and his hours without sleep, Agent DiNozzo would probably sleep away his first twelve hours of the twenty four Brad wanted him on IV antibiotics and under observation, Ziva nonetheless curled up in the small but surprisingly comfortable chair in his room, not wanting him to be alone. At some point late the next morning one of the nurses she'd met hours before gently shook her awake, suggested she go grab a bite from the cafeteria on the first floor, and volunteered to wait with Tony until she got back.
Ziva shrugged, blinking in a bit of surprise that not only Tony but she had slept through much of the morning. "I am fine," she asserted.
The man winked, not buying it. "Go. We're a pretty small town, if you haven't noticed, and you two are celebrities, what with catching that guy. You order what you want; they won't take your money."
Ziva wondered how the nurse could have guessed that all she had with her was her phone, that her backpack was still in the FBI's 4 x 4, and Tony's was who knew where. Her stomach had been rumbling for several hours, and she felt the need for some coffee to face the day. She relented, "thank you. Maybe some coffee..."
"Eat, too. That's an order," the man grinned. "Even without your stomach growling I know how long you've been here – no telling when you ate before you arrived." He paused only another moment before he laughed, "go!"
Ziva smiled sheepishly and nodded. With a step closer to a still-drowsing Tony, she took his hand to squeeze it gently. "Tony, I will be back in a few minutes – I am just going downstairs for coffee."
A drunken beam crossed his features as he stirred and stretched, trying to hide his grimace as he did. "Bring me one?" he murmured.
With a quick glance to the nurse who shrugged and nodded his approval, Ziva turned back to him. "Alright, I will bring you a coffee," she agreed.
She stepped out into the hall and, pulling out her phone on the way, saw with a start that she had missed several calls – switching her ringer off so it wouldn't disturb Tony, she apparently missed the vibrate setting to switch it all the way silent. As she headed to the cafeteria she tried Gibbs first, but his phone went immediately to voice mail. With a surprised frown, she tried Ducky next, who hadn't stopped with her number when he couldn't reach her, and had been assured by the hospital staff they both were doing well. "I was told he had a comfortable night, and that he barely roused even when they brought in the breathing treatment Brad ordered."
Ziva nodded into the phone as she entered the cafeteria, eying the choices before she got in line. "They said it was just a precaution," she added, hoping for Ducky's confirmation – which she received.
"Indeed – he will be fine, my dear. At this point it's a matter of speeding his recovery more than a question of recovery itself. And," the Scotsman added, "the storm has finally moved on. Jethro called about an hour ago to say that the airport has opened, and he will catch the next available flight back. He anticipates being there by dinnertime, if not before."
Her eyebrows went up. "He is not driving back?"
Ducky chuckled. "Apparently Jackson was able to convince him that the roads would be impassable longer than the skies would be, although I suspect it might have been Jack's rather clever ploy to get Jethro to come back to finish his visit. He knows Jethro would never leave his prized Chevrolet in Stillwater longer than he had to."
Ziva smiled at his words and felt herself relax. Not only his demeanor was comforting; to know that Ducky was satisfied that all would be well let her believe it, too. "Thank you, Ducky," she breathed softly.
"Of course, my dear." With a paternal cluck, he added, "you might consider going home yourself and getting some sleep."
"I am fine – unlike Tony, I went straight home after we closed our last case and I slept through the next morning. I caught up before I went out in the blizzard."
Ducky smiled to himself, hearing the protectiveness in her voice for her partner that he suspected she herself had not heard. "Tony will be fine now, Ziva," he said again. "Much of this is simply precautionary, given Anthony's history, but a good portion of it would be provided to anyone who'd been out in the elements as he was." At her sigh, the doctor explained, "the medications make him more comfortable, but more importantly for our Anthony, have let him catch up on the sleep he so desperately needed after the week you all had, and needed even more after his more recent adventures. They'll release him as soon as they see that the antibiotics have begun their work."
As she ended the call with Ducky, Ziva felt herself begin put this threat to her partner behind her, and she got in line to take two apples, a banana, a small package of nuts and two coffees to the register. Looking around at the Christmas decorations along the walls, and suddenly registering that there had been some along halls she had passed through as well, she realized that Tony's Christmas had been spent out in the elements, making it possible for the girls to reunite with their families on Christmas – indeed, being a hero. Her thoughts remained on her partner until the line moved up and she was facing the cashier. "I am sorry," she began, "I have no money, but my boss will be here soon and..."
"No charge," the matronly woman smiled. "You're that Navy cop who came in with Agent DiNozzo, aren't you? It's on the house."
Ziva grinned at the woman's infectious smile and her pronouncement, impressed that she even knew Tony by name. "Thank you," she nodded, "but...".
"Thank you, honey," the woman leaned closer. "My nephew's a Marine. I know what you do for those boys and girls," she added with a twinkle.
Suddenly touched with the connection, Ziva nodded again, silently, then smiled her thanks. Turning back, Ziva hurried back to Tony's room. No matter how welcoming and caring everyone had been, Ziva found herself in a hurry to get back home, to DC, to her place, to NCIS. She suspected that once he was among the lucid, Tony would be more than ready for that, too.
By the time she got back to his room, Tony had conked out again. She went to the nurse's station and managed from the nurse who had just seen Tony that everything was still looking good for an early evening release. Satisfied, Ziva went back to Tony's room, downed her small meal and coffee, and leaned back to relax as Tony slept. Even the coffee hadn't kept her from nodding off again after a long night and an eventful week, and she dozed lightly until she heard a familiar voice.
"...hey hey hey ... Sleeping Beauty. Should we get you a room too?"
Ziva blinked to see Tony actually sitting up, eyes fully open and maybe a little too bright, smiling at her expectantly. "You're awake," she observed, stretching to get up and come to his side.
"Of course I'm awake," he grinned, "you were sleeping. Which means you were snoring..." He watched her as she came close, and said expansively, "they wanted to rush you down to the ER. They were afraid you were in terrible pain."
"You are not nearly as funny as you think you are," she declared, and narrowed her eyes at him. "And even after being warned, they gave you painkillers?" She sighed. He merely batted his eyes at her, and she rolled hers. "Maybe they will sedate you for the ride home."
"I'm fine to go home," he protested.
"You may be fine, but your driver may have their sanity stretched to the breaking point if you are still under the influence." His response this time was to flash a charming smile at her, and she relented. "Other than that – how are you feeling?"
"Fine," he chirped. "Why am I here, anyway? Why are any of us here?" He waggled his eyebrows before adding, "and where is 'here?'"
"Do you not remember what happened?" she asked.
"Oh, I remember," he nodded, sagely, his eyes becoming glassy with memory.
She waited. And watched. And continued to wait as Tony simply beamed, thoughts a million miles away, maybe even forgetting she was there. Ziva fought back a chuckle at his loopiness and prodded, skeptically, "and what do you remember, Tony?"
"You were singing to me," he said immediately, his grin triumphant.
"I was not!" she immediately denied until it dawned on her that, in fact, she had done just that. "I merely wanted to keep you awake," she corrected, protesting mildly. "It wasn't truly singing. And I was also poking you and shaking you..."
"Actually, you were hugging me – sort of. Rocking me. Singing to me." His eyes danced in memory as he added, "I remember." He lay back against the pillows with a smirk. "I liked it."
"You should not make it into anything but what it was, Tony," she tried to chide, but she found she was still so relieved to see him doing well, and now back to being Tony, even if he was silly with medication, that her voice carried more affection than consternation.
"It was like ..." He looked up at the ceiling, a childlike glee in his expression as he searched for just the right words, "like ... you were serenading me." He looked back her, pleased with his pronouncement.
She sputtered with poorly-hidden laughter, "it was nothing of the kind!"
He snorted, a sort of a soft, drunken sound to it. "Just because of your song choice. I mean, it was all lovely, what I recall of it. But they sounded like ... lullabies, and that's not serenading. Not really. You want serenading, you need to go back to show tunes. Especially the ones from those musicals from the '50s and '60s and after..."
"I wasn't trying to serenade you!" she argued.
"They were way before my time. Waaay before my time," Tony drawled, no indication that he'd heard anything she had said, "'cos when I was actually dragged along to see some shows in the City as a kid, they weren't really doing those mushy romantic ballads anymore, but lucky for me – and, by extension, lucky for you –" he waggled his eyebrows at her, "they made movies of those musicals and voilà, little Anthony was able to learn what real serenading is all about."
"Maybe you should save it for..."
"I have often waaaalked down that street before," Tony started singing, "but the pavement always stayed b'neath my feet before. And..." He faltered only for a moment, frowning to remember the lyrics, to then try, "and then here am I ... several stories high..."
"You certainly are," she rolled her eyes, trying to hide her amusement.
"What?" Tony looked back to her, his expression softening as he met her eyes. "You know, Zeeee-vah, out there, in all that ice and wind ... it occurred to me that I might never see your beautiful face again," he said softly. Ziva blinked in complete surprise, given the wildly swinging changes in his behavior, and opened her mouth to speak, when Tony reached for her hand, tucked his chin into his chest and started, so low his voice rumbled with almost no real note to it, "Oooold Maaan RIIIVer..."
"What?" This time it was Ziva who asked, nearly as rattled now by his insanity as she'd been touched by his seeming admission moments before.
"Oh, no, you're right; not really a serenading tune. So how about..." he scrunched up his face for a moment, thinking, then quickly relaxing with his inspiration. "There were bellllls on a hiiill, but I never HEARD them ringing... no I never heard them at all, 'til there was youuuuuuu..."
"Tony, that's nice, but maybe you should be getting some..."
"There were BIRDS ... in the sky ... but I never SAW them winging, no I..." He paused again. "'Winging?' Really? That can't be right, can it?"
"Tony, you were up quite late, and you have been through..."
"Late?" He leered. "Miiiiiddddnniiiiiiiggh, not a SOUND on the paaaaavemennnt..."
She tried not to laugh again and stood. "Tony, I am going to get one of your nurses. I think they may need to adjust your medication..."
"Ziva?" he interrupted her, suddenly quieter. She stopped, looking back to him and seeing that look again, hesitated. His eyes were a lighter, clearer green than she had seen in a long time, and she blinked, waiting.
But this time he said nothing, just kept looking into her eyes, maybe even a bit longingly. After several moments, she prompted, "Yes, Tony?"
He suddenly beamed. An enormous, wide beam crossed his face as he nodded enthusiastically, "yeah!" and started humming for all he was worth, "hmmm hmmm hmm hmm hhm hmm hhmm Maria, uhm hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm MaRIa ... Tony Tony TONY..."
"Tony!" Ziva pounced, covering his lips with her fingers to quiet him and laughing outright now at his insanity, found herself nose to nose with him, his wide green eyes staring into hers. She drew a deep breath and, unable to stop smiling back at his beaming grin, urged "I am delighted that you are back, and safe, and that you are feeling ... better."
"Me, too," he agreed.
"But if you want to be released this evening as they promised, you need to rest... I can wait until you are back home to be serenaded." She found herself patting his shoulder, and he grabbed for her hand again. Even on one of his good days she could have snatched it back before he made contact, and given the condition he was in at the moment, he would never have reached her if she didn't allow it. But she let him gather her hand in his, just to watch him smile again. And when he did, and saw she smiled back, he brought it to his chest.
"Promise?" he asked, his smile even wider.
"Promise," she agreed...
... and watched as his eyes twinkled in response, his brows raised and he took another deep breath. "Promises, promises, I'm all through with promises now; I don't know HOOWWWW I got the NERVE..."
And suddenly a familiar force of nature swept into the room.
"Gibbs!" Tony beamed even wider. "And pizza!"
"Don't tell me I came all the way down from Pennsylvania in a blizzard just to hear you singing show tunes, DiNozzo." Gibbs stood by the bed, smelling of cold winter wind and warm pepperoni. "Although that might be a first..." he actually allowed a small grin to find both his agents largely intact.
"Gibbs," Ziva sighed with a grin, looking relieved. She knew he was on his way, but even so was surprised at his appearance, at least like this, his version of smiling and even relaxed even before he'd had a chance to check out Tony for himself. That and the pizza must mean he'd spoken to Ducky again to know that Tony was all but recovered, simply waiting for Brad to do another set of tests and possibly adjust his medication.
"Sit Rep," he looked to Ziva expectantly.
"Gibbs, I was thinking of telling the nurses they should check his medication, he is ... well, like Tony on medication."
Gibbs nodded sagely and lifted her go-bag along with Tony's. "Nurse out there said you could use their locker room if you wanted. They think it will be another couple hours before we can spring DiNozzo and head back."
"Thank you," she breathed, happy for Gibbs to relieve her for a few minutes. "Tony – I will be back. You do not need to sing for Gibbs, but..." she turned to her boss with a sly look, then turned back to her partner. "He may enjoy it as well."
With that, she breezed out of the room.
Gibbs watched her as she left, then paused a moment, staring at the floor thoughtfully before he dropped the pizza on a nearby table and looked back up to his senior field agent.
At the eye contact, Tony smiled charmingly. "Hey Boss."
Gibbs nodded, and came closer to smirk down at him. "How ya feelin,' DiNozzo?"
"Oh. Good. You know."
"Yeah, I know..." Gibbs sat in the chair near the bed, dropped DiNozzo's bag in front of him. After another couple moments of silence, Gibbs looked up to his agent and said, "and I know that Ducky and Brad worked out that whole ... medication thing ... for you, about ten months ago."
"Yeah?" Tony blinked at his boss, not dropping the eye contact or the smile, affecting innocence for as long as he could.
"Yeah," Gibbs drawled, watching his second watching him. His mouth curled up in an iconic, Gibbs-who-caught-the-canary look and slowly leaned toward the bed, his elbows on his knees, and asked, softly, cocking his head in curiosity. "New mediation regimen – no more loopy DiNozzo."
"No?"
"No," Gibbs shook his head, not dropping his grin, but wondering if he didn't already know the answer he sought before he even asked. "So, Tony," he all but whispered, "what was all that you pulled on Ziva just now?"
Pt. III coming soon!
