Some time has skipped to that football game Tony talked about in SWAK. I'm sorry this took so long to write, school has made my life chaotic.

The game had been promised to be a good one. The teams were practically equal in strength and skill, prompting the audience to be nearly double its usual size. People had gone crazy, from face paint, to hair dye, and all the way to painting their entire selves their school colors. By halftime the crowd was wild and barely kept under control by the few security guards. Everyone was either cheering, jumping, and screaming or doing a combination of the three.

Down on the field the home team was exhausted, sweat pouring down their faces and sticking to their bodies. Still they were smiling because they were a point ahead, and they were all ready to crush the Michigan team. Their coach talked of strategies, but their minds were solely focused on the glory that they would receive if they could push through to the end. They would practically be heroes if they won, and they all knew it.

Soon half time was ending and they were forcing the last gulps of water down their throats before jogging back onto the field. They approached their assigned positions and prepared themselves, most of them thinking of the loved one that was there encouraging them.

And then there was Tony, the wide receiver. He did not have anyone there to support him; his dad had bluntly turned down the invitation. He hadn't been disappointed, even a little happy that at least he hadn't made up a lousy last minute excuse. He had, however, been bothered when some of his teammates had mocked him, even though he knew that they teased everyone and everything and it wasn't intended to be taken personally.

But he didn't truly care about any of that, especially at that moment. He was too eager about recounting the game to Gibbs if they won. He had debated inviting the entire family, but then subsequently figured they would feel obligated to attend, and he certainly did not desire that. So instead he convinced himself it didn't matter he was alone, and tucked his excitement to the back of his mind while he tried to evaluate the game.

He got into his stance, bending his knees and leaving his legs shoulder width apart. His arms rested comfortably on his knees while his right leg was slightly back and the weight of it rested in his toes. The center hiked the ball to the quarterback who prepared mentally and physically to make a pass. Tony immediately exploded forward as fast as he could force his legs to move keeping in mind where he planned on ending. The defensive end attempted to block him, provoking him to quickly fake left and burst right faster than he had thought he could've possibly done. His body burned from the effort, but he pushed through, and split his attention with his rapidly approaching destination and the quarterback who still held the ball. The wind offered resistance as its powerful force blew against him, but he was unstoppable today. Looking behind him he watched with concentration as the quarterback brought back his muscled arm and then released it forward in a mighty arch, sending the ball to Tony, who leaped into the air to receive it.

The entire ordeal served to confuse Tony. One second he was flying through the air, the next there was the satisfying weight of the football that reassured him that he had caught it. In the third, his feet were hitting the ground. But then on the fourth and fifth he was on the ground. And on the sixth there was a weird feeling in his leg, scratch that, his entire body. Somehow he knew there was plenty of voices talking to him, but their words were falling on deaf ears. Something was wrong, very wrong, but it was too difficult to force himself to think. There was blurs of movement and colored blobs but following them only made his stomach turn with nausea. Something was being put in front of his face moving, forcing Tony to swallow back bile that threatened to come up. He studied the tanish, slender object and decided it was a finger. His slow brain managed to put together pieces that he was probably being tested for a concussion. Judging by the fact he hadn't made his eyes follow the finger and the surrounding voices increasing in urgency he thought it was safe to say he failed.

He tried to find out what else was wrong with him, because looking around at the running blobs he figured he had to have more than just a concussion. With some effort he made himself move all of his fingers and shift his arms, but they were all alright albeit sore. Making his way done his body he took a deep breath and found while his ribs were probably severely bruised, he doubted they were cracked and knew they were not broken. Next came his legs, he moved his left and nothing happened. Maybe he was wrong, maybe he just had a serious concussion. He sent a silent prayer for his hopeful thinking to be correct before jerking his right leg.

The pain hit him hard and crushed his hopes. The air whooshed out of him and wouldn't have been able to keep silent if he had the air, but all he could manage was to take quick gasps through his nose. He arched his back off the ground as if to escape the fiery nerves but a pair hand shoved him down again. Slowly the pain lessened to a manageable level and he gratefully sucked in oxygen to his deprived lungs. He felt hands sliding beneath him and then he was lifted and laid on a something hard. He was moving, he was sure of that, and his concussed brain figured that he would have to go in an ambulance. It took a minute for that word to be processed. Ambulance. Him. In said ambulance. Then the hospital. He had a childish, uncontrollable fear of needles and hospitals. He had an urge to resist even though that was asurb considering the extent of his injuries. Before he could stop himself he was pushing the hands off of him and struggling to sit up. Voices got louder but that only fueled him. A needle entered his peripheral vision and panic rushed up his throat. He put every ounce of his strength and focus on getting away. There was shouting that made his head pound even harder than it had before but it didn't slow his efforts. He felt hands pinning his arms to his sides and then the cold metal of a needle being plunged into the inside of his elbow. Slowly his muscles relaxed involuntarily and sleep threatened to take him. However, he knew that if he allowed himself to he would awake in the hospital confused, disoriented, and alone. He despised that feeling so he simply stared at the ceiling of the ambulance, stubbornly resisting the effects of whatever drug they had given him. Time passed almost in slow motion and it was uneventful save for an IV being inserted. He had felt the sharp stinging in his upper wrist and deduced what it was, but the drug was strong enough to immobilize him. Eventually they reached the hospital where the doors were yanked open. A nurse leaned over him and widened her eyes in shock once she realized Tony was still awake. He couldn't help but feel proud of himself even though it was probably in his interest to allow the drugs to do their job.

She shook the expression of her face and then grabbed another needle. A shrill noise erupted in the enclosed space, and judging by the way he could feel his heart pounding against his rib cage, it was probably the heart monitor. She seemed to smile reassuringly before emptying the contents into him. For a few seconds he felt no different, but then his eyes began to droop down on their own accord. He was able to force them back open, but then they fell shut and stayed as such.

Doctor Edison's POV

The nurses and staff rushed the stretcher into the hospital. The poor kid had badly broken his right leg to the point where the bone showed through, and he had a serious unrated concussion. Not to mention if the retold scene of getting him to the ambulance meant anything, the kid was scared of hospitals. He wasn't assigned to the kid, but he empathized with him. He figured the least he could do was call the kid's parents, even though it was a nurse's job.

Someone had told him that the kid's name was Tony DiNozzo and most of the nurses had mentioned that he was that DiNozzo. That meant he had met Tony's dad once, they had a mutual friend and they both attended the dinner party. They had clashed, however, and the friend had made sure that they weren't ever invited to the same event again. He had called Anthony to apologize after receiving his number, though, and still had number in his phone. He scrolled through his contacts and finally found it, and hesitated before calling. He had immediately taken a disliking to Anthony, and did not particularly want to talk to him. He shook his reluctance out of him though, that wasn't fair to Tony. When he hit send it only took a moment before he answered.

"I told you that I will not sign off on something that does not benefit me!" Anthony roared angrily.

"Uh, hello, are you Anthony DiNozzo?" There was a pause and he couldn't help but wonder if Anthony was realizing his assumption in the caller or if he was debating of whether he should lie about his identity.

"Yes, I am Anthony DiNozzo. Who is calling and please make this quick."

"I am Dr. Edison, and your son has been admitted into the hospital."

"Why?" Anthony asked with his voice dry and void of emotion.

"He has a badly broken leg and concussion from football," he told him calmly hoping that it would provoke some sort of reaction to prove he actually cared for his kid.

"Football is a stupid sport, he should have listened to me." His mouth dropped open slightly but then he quickly closed as anger took him over.

"Aren't you going to come visit him? He will have to recover for a short time period in the hospital and he seems to have a fear of them."

"He's just being a coward. He'll get over himself."

"He'll be in a rather great deal of pain," he said with his voice rising in volume. "I've never seen a parent who hasn't come!"

"You're that Dr. Edison aren't you? You never understood the importance of my business. I believe we are done talking." He opened his mouth to try to find out what the heck was wrong with this man but he would have been talking to an empty line. He furiously slammed his phone shut and decided to check on the boy.

On his way to Tony's room, he had to walk through the waiting room. There sat three football players in the same uniform as Tony's, looking uncomfortable in their bulky gear trying to squeeze into the small chairs. As soon as they saw him they jumped up and started asking questions.

"Has a Tony DiNozzo been admitted yet?"

"Do you know where he is?"

"How is he?"

"What's his room number?"

"When will he be okay?"

"Hey!", he practically had to shout to be heard over them. "He has not been assigned to me, but I can go check on how he is doing. Would you do me a favor and call his parents?" He had still had a flicker of hope in him that Anthony was not a monster and maybe hearing kids the age of his own would elicit some response.

"Uh, sure, we'll call." They looked doubtful and his hope was extinguished. They knew Anthony would not come just as much as he did.

"Alright, I will be back as soon as possible." he said in departure. He went through the double doors and down the hallway to where Tony's room should be. He froze though, and worry clenched his heart. There was too many nurses, too many doctors for everything to be going smooth, normal even. Something was definitely wrong.

Please review! You can always tell me what you would like to happen next in the story!