A/N: Finally done with travel and conferences and getting a chance to update. Thanks for putting up with the long wait! Updates should be more regular now, or at least, that's the plan... :-)
Have you ever told someone something I'm okay, I really am now -Lene Marlin, "Disguise"
That's far from the truth
Let them know that you're okay
Just to make them stop
All the wondering, and questions they may have
Just needed some time, to figure things out
Not telling lies, I'll be honest with you
Still we don't know what's yet to come
As he took the phone from Gibbs, Tony felt a knot in his stomach that had nothing to do with the chemo. Telling Gibbs had not been as difficult as he'd feared, simply because he had been half-conscious and didn't have the strength to hide anything. Really, if you were going to deliver bad news, that was the way to do it, he thought. Much less stressful. Though there was the minor detail of getting to that semi-conscious state in the first place, which was certainly an experience he'd rather not repeat.
This time he was far too awake, and reeling from his outburst and its subsequent fallout. The things he'd said to Gibbs were thoughts he hadn't even really been aware of himself, and they still swirled in his head, too raw to fully process. Trying to figure out what he would say to Abby, and Ziva and McGee, was beyond him. If he was going to be honest with himself, though, he could have been completely calm and had years to think, and he still wouldn't have known what to say. There should be a book or something. How to Give Shitty News in Three Easy Steps. It'd make the best-seller list, easy.
"Hey, Abs."
"Tony? Oh, thank God! Guys, it's him!" Abby said. "Tony, are you OK? Well, of course you're not OK, you're in the hospital. Stupid question. Sorry. But what's going on? Gibbs said...well, he didn't say anything, really. Just that it wasn't...wasn't good...Tony, what did he mean?"
Nothing like laying it all out there. It has to be now, he told himself. It was either that or a big, melodramatic bedside confessional, and he had never been a fan of soap operas.
"Abby, are the others there? Can you put me on speaker?" There was no way he was saying this more than once.
"Speaker? Oh, God, Tony, this is bad, it's really bad, isn't it. I knew it. I knew - "
"Please, Abby." Do it quick before I lose my nerve.
"Sorry, Tony...yeah, they're both here. Hang on." He heard a rustling on the other end, then Abby's voice with a slight echo. "Can you hear me?"
"I can hear you. Hey Ziva, McGee."
"Tony?" McGee was close to the speaker. "Tony, seriously, are you OK?"
OK? I'm great! How lucky am I - I won the potentially fatal illness lottery twice! He couldn't bring himself to say that, though, or any of the other smartass comments that ran through his head. Funny how much more difficult it was to just be straight with them. He glanced at Gibbs, who simply nodded.
"Not exactly. You guys know I've been kind of, not really 100% lately" He clenched the phone tighter and closed his eyes, trying to block out...what, he wasn't sure. The world in general, most likely. "I've, uh, been diagnosed with lymphoblastic lymphoma. Something to do with pre...T-cell...cursor...something like that."
There was silence on the other end of the line. Then, Abby's trembling voice. "Lymphoma. Tony, that's...that's cancer."
He winced. He hated hearing Abby so upset, and hated even more that he was the cause of it. "Yeah, Abs. It is."
"But, that's not...you can't...oh my God." She broke off abruptly. He heard Ziva in the background, saying, "Abby, sit down."
"Abby?"
"It's me, Tony," McGee said.
"Is she OK?"
"Uh, yeah. She's a little...a little upset. Surprised. I...we all are." Tony pictured McGee the way he always looked when something caught him off guard, and waited, knowing he was searching for the right words. That made two of them, then. "Tony...I'm sorry."
"Not your fault, Probie."
"I know. But still."
"Yeah."
"How, um, how bad..."
"How bad? It's cancer, McGee. That's kind of bad - at least, I thought so, but maybe you've got a different perspective." Tony wished he could take the words back as soon as they'd come out of his mouth. He knew what McGee was asking, and he was perfectly capable of answering in the sterile, clinical terms he'd been given. What it meant, though, it was a question that he'd been trying not to ask himself. "Bad" was quickly becoming much more than stages and statistics. Bad was a whole different world.
"Tony, I..."
He sighed. "I'm sorry, McGee. You didn't deserve that."
"It's alright, Tony."
"No, it isn't." Tony said. "How bad...well, it's stage 3B, not great, but could be worse." He could tell McGee was nodding on the other end, and wouldn't have been surprised if he was taking notes. So much the better. Maybe McGee could make sense of some of it, because Tony sure as hell couldn't. He went on, feeling like he was talking about someone else entirely. "There's a tumor in my chest, they're treating that with radiation, and chemo for...well...the rest..." He trailed off.
"Tony." Ziva, now. "What can we do?"
Make it stop. Make it all stop. "Unless you were planning on going to med school, nothing, Ziva. I'm fine. I really am. Don't worry."
"Of course we're worried, Tony!" Abby was back, sounding only marginally calmer. "But we'll be there. You don't have to go through this alone. You have us."
"Thanks, Abby." That's what I was afraid of. I don't want any of you to see this. This isn't me. This isn't Tony.
They spoke for a few more minutes, until Gibbs, noticing that Tony had regressed to monosyllabic responses, finally motioned for the phone. Tony handed it over gratefully, not sure how much more of the stilted conversation he could take. He could barely force himself to listen as Gibbs said something to McGee and hung up. At least it was over; at least they all knew.
At least he didn't have to see their faces.
He felt himself shutting down, closing in, either from exhaustion or illness or guilt or some combination, he didn't know. He didn't want to know. He wanted to roll over and go to sleep and not think about it anymore. Not hear Abby's voice in his head. Tony, that's cancer. Abby. He'd known she would take it the hardest.
"Boss," he said quietly. "Can you go check on Abby?"
Gibbs didn't need an explanation. "I was planning on it. You need anything before I leave?"
"No." Tony turned his face to the wall.
Gibbs stood. "I'll be back later."
"You don't have to," Tony said.
"Later," Gibbs repeated. Tony didn't look up as he left.
Gibbs arrived back at NCIS to find his team gathered in the bullpen. He had expected it, would have been surprised had they already gone their separate ways, even though it was growing late. His team tended to close ranks in a crisis, and Tony's illness was no exception. It was in these times that their relationships shifted from being colleagues, and friends, to family. It was a good thing, Gibbs thought. Tony was going to need family, and his own certainly wouldn't be of any use.
Getting off the elevator, he stood just out of sight, examining the subdued group. McGee was glued to his computer monitor, brow furrowed, clearly engrossed in what he was reading. Ziva had a case file spread out on her desk, but she was sitting with her chin on her hand, staring into space. Abby was at Tony's desk, slumped in his chair hugging Bert the Hippo. Her cheeks were streaked with black eyeliner and her eyes were still red. Oh, Abby...
"OK, here's something," he heard McGee say.
"Is it something that doesn't tell us Tony's going to die?"
"Abby," Ziva chided. "No one has said that Tony is going to die."
"No one's said he won't, either, Ziva. You don't know - "
"Enough of that," Gibbs said, rounding the corner. All three started, looking up at him as if they hadn't been expecting to see him for hours yet, if at all.
"Gibbs." Ziva was the first to speak. She picked up the file from her desk. "We are still working on..." she began hesitantly.
Gibbs stopped her. "It can wait, Ziva." He caught Abby's eye, and she scrambled out of the chair and nearly ran to him. He wrapped his arms around her and she buried her face in his chest, shoulders shaking. "It's OK, Abs," he murmured, stroking her hair, trying not to notice how hollow the words sounded.
"No, it's not," she said, her voice muffled by his jacket. She tipped her head back to look up at him. "It's not OK, Gibbs. This is Tony we're talking about. Tony! He can't be dying, he can't!"
"Hey!" Gibbs sat on the edge of the desk, holding her at arm's length. "Ziva's right, Abby. No one said that Tony's dying."
"He has cancer, Gibbs!"
"He had the plague, too," McGee said. "He survived that, didn't he?"
"Tony is strong," Ziva said. "He has a good chance, does he not, Gibbs?"
Their words were meant to be encouraging, but it was clear that both were just as upset as Abby. This needed to stop.
"Better not let Tony hear you're writing him off, Abs," Gibbs said mildly. The look of pure indignation on her face was exactly what he was aiming for.
"I am not writing him off! How can you say that?"
"You've practically got him dead and buried."
"Not true! Besides, Tony wants to be cremated, not buried. Don't you know anything?" She stopped, then with a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, let herself be pulled back into Gibbs' arms.
"That's better," he said softly, and she managed a small smile.
"Boss, what happened, exactly?" McGee asked. "I mean, Tony was here yesterday and he seemed OK. He wasn't feeling great, but he hasn't been, lately."
Gibbs leaned against the desk. It had taken him awhile to decide exactly what to tell them, and in the end he had decided to be as straightforward as possible. "He started chemo yesterday afternoon, and I guess the side effects were a lot worse than he'd anticipated. He couldn't keep anything down - he was pretty dehydrated by the time I got there."
"Poor Tony," Abby murmured, and Gibbs tightened his arms around her. Scenes from the morning flashed through his mind. He was very, very glad Abby had not been there.
"I don't understand how it got so bad. There's medication that can help," McGee said. "Or didn't it work?"
"Sure, it helped some, once Ducky actually gave it to him. He should have gotten it before the chemo but he didn't think he'd need it."
"Tony being Tony," Ziva said softly.
"No kidding," McGee said. "Wait, though - Ducky gave it to him? Did he know about this?"
Gibbs nodded. "Tony told him yesterday, before he left."
"And he didn't say anything?"
"It wasn't his place, McGee," Gibbs replied, choosing not to mention how pissed off he'd been over that very thing. "To be fair, he did think Tony had spoken to me already." He wasn't entirely sure how Ducky could have believed that, not when Gibbs hadn't come pounding on his door demanding information. But then, none of them seemed to be thinking very clearly.
McGee nodded. "Can...can we see him?" he asked.
"Tomorrow. He's pretty wiped out. Give him some time - and you, too."
Another nod, and McGee pushed his chair back. "I'm going to go talk to Ducky. I think he's still here," he said, shutting off his computer monitor.
"Wait up, McGee - I'll go with you." Abby pulled away from Gibbs, turning so that he could see her hands. Are you going back to the hospital tonight? she signed. He nodded. I'm going with you. Don't you dare leave without me. Without waiting for an answer, she took off after McGee.
Gibbs sank into his desk chair. The combination of tension and anger and worry was beginning to catch up to him, and he could feel the beginning of a nasty headache building behind his eyes. He let his head fall into his hands. Ziva...McGee...Abby...he could still see their faces as they were when he first arrived. Stricken, numb, confused. Had he said the right things to them? Were there any right things to say?
As tired as he was, sitting still was difficult. He wanted to get back to the hospital, and he tried to convince himself that it was so someone was keeping an eye on Tony, to make sure nothing else went wrong, no other information was conveniently left out. That was a load of crap and Abby would have called him on it in a second. Truth was, he just didn't want Tony to be alone for long. The look in Tony's eyes when he'd left worried Gibbs just as much as his physical health. Maybe more.
He leaned back, taking in the mostly empty bullpen. Ziva was the only one still there. In fact, she had barely moved; she was still at her desk, her dark head bent over the file spread before her. Gibbs realized that she had barely said a word since he'd returned. "Ziva?"
She looked up. Her jaw was set, and Gibbs was not entirely surprised to see that her eyes were bright with unshed tears. Without a word, she gathered her things and headed quickly for the elevator.
Gibbs sprinted after her and made it inside just before the doors closed. Ziva made no effort to stop him. She stood staring straight ahead, not meeting his eyes.
"Ziva."
No response. He reached out and slapped the emergency stop, bringing the elevator to a halt, then grasped her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. "Talk to me, Ziva."
She folded her arms across her chest and pulled away, closing him out. "He said nothing, Gibbs." The words came slowly, as if she was struggling to get them out. "Nothing. He must have known days ago."
Gibbs sighed. Her tone was angry, hurt. Familiar. "He did."
"Did you know?"
"Not till this morning."
She nodded briskly, then started to speak, but stopped. She stood motionless for a time, the emotions battling on her face. "Why?" she finally whispered.
It was a million questions wrapped into one, and most of them were ones he couldn't answer. "I don't know," he said, quietly. He waited while she tipped her head back, trying to compose herself, refusing to allow any tears to fall. Then she hit the switch and the elevator whirred back to life.
"I'll walk you to your car," he said when they reached the garage.
"You don't have to do that, Gibbs. I am perfectly fine by myself."
"What is it with you people?" Gibbs sounded exasperated. "First Tony, now you. You don't have to do everything alone, you know."
"We learned it from the best."
He gave her his patented "Yeah, whatever," look, and put an arm around her shoulder as they walked across the garage. This time, she didn't pull away.
