Thank you to everyone who left a review, alerted, favourited or just lurked. Also many thanks to Arress for the Beta and you all know the drill ... all mistakes are mine :) Here is the first of 2 bonus chapters so I do hope you like them. since it is always a crap shoot when you decide to add additional chapters. To the reviewer who observed that getting stabbed in the heart was a life threatening injury I would definitely agree with that observation. Although details differ, a relative recovered from a similar situation including having a stroke on the table during one of several open heart emergency surgeries over a period of days, so I know how miraculous such a recovery is.
Finally, I have chosen to answer a reviewer (anonymous of course) at the completion of this chapter as it is a long response and I figured that if you weren't interested you can skip it. Actually I wanted to address another issue too but this chapter and the author's note was too long to do so, so it will keep until the last chapter. Hope you enjoy :)
Be Careful What You Wish For
Chapter 9
Tom Morrow sat at his desk, studying the personnel file of Special Agent Anthony D. DiNozzo, paying close attention to the medical reports that had been faxed to him yesterday. Despite the enormous odds against his young agent who had been in a coma for just over three weeks, he had astounded the medical community and woken up from a coma that the doctors felt may be permanent, almost six months ago. Of course such a traumatic assault to his brain due to a combination of oxygen deprivation and cerebral haemorrhage meant that he inevitably woke up with deficits, some of which it was becoming apparent, were permanent.
His motor deficits had been moderate, fine motor skills that had to be re-learnt, his coordination had been affected but like the gifted college athlete he'd been, he worked with tireless commitment with a physical therapist to improve his strength, muscle tone, coordination and his stamina. While he still had some ways to go before he was back to normal, he was making great strides every day and was fitter than many agents, even if he hadn't yet attained his own pre coma fitness levels. He worked with equal determination to regain his fine motor skills too, although initially he'd struggled, his frustration apparent to all with the slow progress despite his efforts. It had been a serendipitous event when the speech therapist had suggested he attend music therapy due to his moderate and intermittent expressive aphasia (his ability to speak fluently) being affected by the stroke.
His music therapist, Dana Strauss had cheered him up considerably with the discovery that he might have difficulty speaking and expressing himself at times, but he could sing fluently. His delight was matched by her own when she recommended that he might like to learn to play guitar as an aid to writing music and songs as an outlet for his emotions. She recommended channelling negative feelings such as grief, anger, fear and frustration into music as being very cathartic. When he casually mentioned that he could already play piano and guitar, or he could before the stroke, she had encouraged him to practise daily to regain his pre-stroke skills and pointed out that it would also assist him in regaining fine motor skills. After that, Tony had thrown himself into either working out or playing music. He ended up jamming with three other stroke survivors who were working with Dana too and after several months, they formed an R&B group and had become inseparable.
They called their group 'Strokin the Blues' and their bass guitarist Jema Jones had been a professional musician prior to her stroke at the tender age of 29, and following several years of intensive therapy she had now recovered enough to play again. Jema had even gotten them various gigs around DC in clubs where she's worked in the past and that helped them recover a great deal of confidence and independence. Tom had been blown away by Tony's musical abilities and he knew that the mob from NCIS had been dumbstruck. It had been a nasty little surprise to find that there was a least one part of the agent's life they'd worked with for years, who had such talent and they hadn't a clue. Yet having visited Tony at his apartment a couple of times since he had returned home from rehab, Tom wondered why Gibbs at the very least, hadn't wondered why the lad had a baby grand sitting in his living room.
Glancing at the flashing light on his desk, Tom flicked the intercom switch to on and spoke into the speaker, "Yes, Sharon?"
"Special Agent DiNozzo has arrived, Sir." His personal assistant announced in her chirpy 'isn't the world such a wonderful place' manner.
"Good, send him in, please," He instructed her, closing Tony's file and slipping it into the top drawer of his desk. Standing up, he walked around the desk to greet Tony as he entered his office. Giving the young agent a gentle hug after approaching him as one might a half tame animal, he directed them over to his leather couch, knowing that Sharon would be appearing momentarily, with coffee for her boss and a cup of green tea for Tony. Over the last few months he had come to the realisation that while a part of the man craved physical intimacy and tactile stimulation, his trust issues made it difficult for him to accept displays of affection. Strangely enough, one of his perplexing complexities meant that he was perfectly fine in offering hugs and touches when it came to giving them to others but it was the receiving of them where he struggled mightily with acceptance.
"Sit Tony, it's great to see you. How did you go at the firing range, my boy?" He inquired innocently, not prepared to let Tony know that he had already had a report from his spies telling him that the agent had easily qualified, even though he had just been practising.
"Okay I think, Sir. Not sure if I'm back up to my usual scores yet but I did okay, I think. I should be able to requalify without too much drama," He said cautiously. Morrow sighed mentally. The caution was a new and not so welcome addition. It was too soon to know if it was reactive or due to the stroke, no doubt time would tell.
Tom looked at him and growled playfully, "What did I say about calling me Sir? It's Tom, remember. We've know each other for years." Seeing the look that crossed Tony's face, he cursed his thoughtlessness. "I wanted to have a chat because according to your medical reports you have been cleared to return to desk duty and you just need to requalify on the range which you already did today apparently. So… really the only thing that we are waiting on now is clearance from the shrinks and reading the last interim report from the psychologist, you've cleared most of the barriers to being signed off. I just wanted to make sure that you still want to come back to Homeland, Tony. I know Gibbs wants you to go back to work for him," Tom questioned him carefully.
He could see Tony's furrowed brow and he got a sinking feeling in his gut. "It's okay, Tony if you want to go back to them. You were only here for a week before you were injured. I understand that you might feel more secure back with your old team…they were your family… " He halted as he noticed Tony's look of distress accompanied by his hand held aloft, palm exposed, indicating that he wanted Morrow to stop.
"No, Sir um Tom. Uh…you don't understand. I don't want to go back to NCIS; I don't even remember them, anyway. Even with Gibbs, I have only vague memories of meeting in Baltimore where we worked a case with my old partner Danny Price," He stated, his features pained as he thought of his former partner Danny. That memory was still incredibly tender and although Morrow thought he was recalling his meeting with Gibbs, he was struck by his facial expression. It looked as if it was still incredibly raw, as if it occurred yesterday and his heart gave a lurch.
That was when Morrow realised, that for Tony; to all intents and purposes it probably was if it happened recently. One of the permanent deficits that were a result of the damage wrought by the stroke was that his memory for the last eight years had been wiped away completely and the year before that was also somewhat patchy too. At first Tony had been determined to regain his memories and refused to accept that the memory loss might be permanent. He'd driven himself crazy trying to remember, until eventually with a lot of support he'd finally grieved and come to an acceptance that his memories were gone, probably forever, since he had diffuse neuronal cell death in various spots in his brain.
According to the experts, while many areas of the brain carried some degree of redundancy that could be coaxed into being trained to perform tasks that they didn't normally do, memories that had been stored and destroyed were another matter entirely. Of course there was no way to know definitively if the neurons storing those eight to nine years were destroyed, in which case the memory loss was utterly permanent and there was nothing to be done. The second scenario was somewhat more hopeful, if the damaged neurons were those that gave him access to the memories and it was access to, not the memories themselves that were damaged. If that was the case then there remained a possibility that access may be rerouted and access to some or all the memories may be re-established. Even if that scenario came to pass, there was no way know when or if it might occur.
Finally accepting that the memories of up to 25 percent of his life had been erased, probably permanently, had sent Tony into a tailspin. His rehab team had bullied him into attending a support group for survivors of strokes to help him cope. Although initially resistant, (sometime language was a woeful inadequate tool to quantify behaviour and attitudes, Tom concluded wryly) after he'd caved in and attended the support group, he found it incredibly helpful. Along with his R&B ensemble, the survivors became an important factor in his social support, since the only person Tony remembered from DC, albeit it barely, was Gibbs and he seemed to be uncomfortable in his presence. Perhaps it was the intense need that seemed to ooze from the man's pores as he tried to rebuild a relationship with Tony.
"Are you positive, Tony? They all know you and want you." Tom questioned him gently. He really wanted Tony to stay at Homeland but it had to be his choice, not something he was coerced into doing.
"And that's the problem, um Tom. I don't remember them but they know me and have all these expectations about how I was and how I should be. You said that I had only worked here for a week before the attack and that means no one really knows me here, so it's no biggie that I don't remember them. But the people I used to work with keep saying things and looking at me like eager puppies. Hopeful, like I'll suddenly remember them and when I don't, then they look all crushed, like I've hurt them or let them down. I can't deal with their expectations and disappointment. I've had to come to terms with years of lost memories and decide to face the future instead mourning the past but they either can't or aren't willing to do the same."
Morrow nodded, he could understand where Tony was coming from. The whole gang from NCIS seemed to think that it was just a question of time and effort for him to regain his memories, although Ducky as a doctor was a realist and had to understand why that wasn't likely to happen. But the rest of the team just wanted everything to return to normal and Gibbs and Abby in particular, were so damned guilty that they'd do anything to entice him to return – as if that would fix everything, Tom snorted cynically.
"Well Tony, as I told you before, Homeland is damned lucky that you decided to come to work for us. You're a Hell of a fine agent."
"Even if I can't remember being an agent, Sir?" His agent searched his face for comfort and reassurance that he still had a place and purpose after his exhaustive efforts to reclaim his life.
"All the things that make you an outstanding investigator, undercover operative and a leader are all still there, Tony. Much of it can be accessed by muscle or procedural memory, even if you don't have conscious recall. And the qualities you possess: your integrity, courage, intelligence, creativity, your empathy for victims and witnesses, your professionalism and your ability to make people talk to you, not to mention your awe inspiring ability to form informational networks, they are all present and undamaged. Your short term memory is fine and you have proven that you can form new memories. I know you're nervous lad, but I have absolute confidence that you'll do fine." Tom patted him on the shoulder in a fatherly fashion, his keen gaze taking in Tony's less than convinced visage.
"Look Kiddo, initially you'll be riding a desk but there is your team to build from the ground up and you need training in Homeland technologies, protocols and procedures, - so there's plenty to keep that active brain of yours busy. Plus you have to cosy up to the whole damn building - buddy up to the guys and charm your way into all the ladies' good books. Then when you're ready, we'll get you and your team out in the field. It will be fine Tony. We'll just take it slow but I know you and it's going to be a good thing."
Tony gave him an appreciative look that was tinged with cautious fondness. Although he didn't remember his former director and the current Assistant Director of Homeland Security, Tom had been there with him when he woke up in the hospital after he'd shocked everyone and started to regain consciousness. Over the coming weeks as he attacked his rehab and physical therapy, his occupational therapy, speech therapy, music therapy and psych appointments, Tom had hung around unassumingly in the background, providing him with gentle encouragement that was often a welcome respite to the frenetic and emotional encouragement that his former team mates seemed determined to provide.
Although he'd always been amused by DiNozzo's antics and he felt a genuine fondness for him that went well beyond the fact he diffused one Leroy Jethro Gibbs' infamous bad temper in the bullpen and was the glue that held the MCRT together - how could anyone not love the guy who could have chosen a much easier path in life? Morrow also experienced anger at his treatment after he'd left NCIS but Morrow's somewhat restrained temperament always tended to be overpowered by more charismatic personalities. Yet it had been just the panacea and gentle support that Tony was searching for as he struggled to reclaim his life. The former NCIS director really did mean what he'd said to Gibbs – he had always longed to be a father but never had the chance before. And Tony was damned easy to care about so Tom found his paternal side rising to the fore unbidden.
And it was that paternal side that was telling him that there was something else that was troubling his new agent. "Something else on your mind you want to talk about, Tony?" Morrow inquired gently. He offered him a second cup of tea that he'd quietly organised to be brewed freshly, even as he'd requested a second coffee for himself.
"My old team at NCIS…" he paused, obviously searching for the right words. "They… apologised to me for… their bad behaviour. They told me a whole lot of stuff that went down, bad stuff when I worked with them. Really cruel bullying stuff like when I was a kid at boarding school. Worse stuff than the hazing that I went through when I was at RIMA or the Police Academy, since they were supposed to be my own team." He finally stopped examining his shoes and made eye contact with his new boss. Morrow felt like someone had physically punched him in the guts when he saw the pain in DiNozzo's eyes. "I'm guessing this was the Cliffs Notes version? I mean the two junior agents David and McGee looked like someone was holding a gun to their heads to make them do it, so I gotta conclude that they were just scratching the surface?" He questioned uncertainly.
Tom smirked, "Good instincts, Tony. You put up with a heap of crap over the years that I'm sure that they neglected to mention or you would have gotten a fungal ear infection just working your way down the list… so yeah Cliffs Notes works well for me." This guy was still sharp as a tack and Morrow was proud that he could see beyond the crap. Yet… maybe he wasn't a parent but his 'make it better' instinct was screaming, and demanding that he do something. Looking closely at his agent … wow six months ago when Tony was in a coma he never expected to be able to say that… he was looking extremely disconsolate. Awkwardly he moved closer to Tony and placed his hand on his shoulder.
Knowing he was taking a chance he said softly, "What's wrong, Son?"
Turning pain-filled eyes toward him, he asked softly, "What the Hell was wrong with me?"
"Nothing's wrong with you, Tony. Why would you ask that?
"Well why else would I put up with that sort of abuse, Tom?"
Morrow for the second time that morning felt like someone punched him in the gut and it wasn't a pleasant experience. He did not see this one coming. Taking a deep breath he wondered what the Hell to say.
"You know Tony I often wondered that myself. I think that you are intensely loyal and caring for people you regard as important to you… as family but that you were never taught to demand those same things for yourself. You always cut everyone too much slack and they'd take advantage of your kind heart. I know you never liked to talk about your childhood, probably still don't but I think that you were so desperate to have a real family that you overlooked a lot of crap. Perhaps no one ever sat you down to explained to you that family - well functional families don't treat other members of their family like a pile of excrement."
"But there has to be something wrong with me, Tom. Danny was my frie… my former homicide partner and he betrayed me. That much I can remember, unfortunately, and Wendy left me the night before the wedding (although I can't remember that) and then I learn that just about everyone on the team has been treating me like a pile of crap. I must have been such a pathetic piece of loser shit. They obviously thought all they had to do was apologise and I'd come crawling back again, which," He said, looking at Tom intently, "You don't need to be concerned about. I'm not going back there!" He reassured his boss, proving that he may have lost a significant chunk of memory, but his ability to read other people tells hadn't been affected at all.
Morrow thought about the other consequence of his stroke that the neurologists thought permanent. Always slow to trust people, he had become almost pathologically so. Which wasn't such a bad trait per se for someone working at Homeland, but Tom worried that Tony would shy away from forming friendships, and that would be tragic for such a gregarious person. He was also much slower to forgive transgressions against him these days, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing either. It did nonetheless point to the fact that the stroke had changed him irrevocably, and that was a tragedy.
It was a wonder that he'd bonded with the other stroke survivors and his band, but the support group facilitator explained that it was different to forming relationships with regular people. That was because they all understood each other in a way that no one who hadn't gone through what they had could begin to imagine, it was like they spoke a foreign language and knew what each other felt and thought, and that made it much easier for Tony to trust them.
That didn't hold true for most individuals that he encountered though. It was definitely a siege mentality – an us versus them point of view, even if it wasn't a conscious one. Its purpose remained to protect him from being hurt, and Morrow knew that many people did indeed treat him differently when they discovered his history.
How ironic was it though that when Gibbs was ready to prostrate himself and beg for forgiveness from Tony, and deservedly so in Tom's humble opinion, Tony didn't even realise what an earth-shattering gesture he was being offered nor was he all that appreciative. The damage done to his memories of Jethro, never mind his darned stupid rules, combined with his processing of certain thoughts and emotions in the frontal cortex had subtly changed him. He was no longer the eager to please agent striving to impress cold, emotionally-constipated authority figures who ignored his efforts and welfare. Nor it would seem was he so ready to forgive them their wrong doings, either.
At the rehab centre, his first physical therapist had been cut straight from the same cloth as a Gibbs doppelganger, right down to the ex-military monosyllabic, praise-miserly approach. A guy who honestly believed that tough love was going to motivate his newest client. But Tony had been suspicious and noncompliant and basically refused to work with the jerk. He ended up working with a fairly inexperience young woman who was enamoured with movies and had a great laugh. Her gentle yet genuine praise seemed to motivate him and he started making rapid strides in progress in a short time after she took over his case.
Tony had been through yet another death defying life experience, and though it wasn't an encounter he'd survived unscathed, he had almost made it back to be able to resume a career he had been born to carry out. And that, frankly, was a miracle. Although Morrow couldn't help worrying about him, Tony had managed to find himself a new family, between his band mates and his survivors' support group. He'd even started a tentative relationship with Jema, the bass guitarist in their group, although both were keen to take it slow for the foreseeable future.
Now he stood at the precipice, poised to become the lead investigator of the newest team out of the DC office of Homeland Security. It was a stunning achievement in anyone's books, but given the hurdles that he'd been forced to overcome over his tumultuous life so far, Tom was inordinately proud to know him. He looked forward to working closely with Anthony DiNozzo for many years to come.
Authors Note: Apologies to readers who don't require a simple statement of fact to be justified in so much detail. I choose to ignore these people most of the time but sometimes you just have to make a stand against people who try to bully you into writing what is utter tosh. At University I was trained not to write something unless I could substantiate it and right now I'm in the mood to do just that. Feel free to skip this explanation if you like as it is lengthy. Unfortunately when people chose to leave anonymous comments that contain accusations authors have no other recourse except for A/Ns.
To the Anon reviewer – FYI to accuse me of character bashing because I wrote what was a basic statement of fact in incorrect - for it to be character bashing, what I said has to be unfounded. I can however, provide plenty of evidence to back up the statement that McGee should never been appointed as SFA when he had two years' experience as a field agent. First off there is a mandated amount of experience and education that a candidate must possess to be eligible for promotion to a supervisory position, which is longer than two years. Speak to various REAL LIFE law enforcement individuals and they will tell you that two years – one as a probationary agent, would not be anywhere near long enough for a cop/agent to develop the competencies required to be promoted to a supervisory role. It would never happen.
If you want to get into specifics about McGee's own behaviour before and during the time he served in the role, he provides ample demonstration he wasn't ready to assume the role and shows why the regulation exists. The first case the new MCRT worked, following his promotion was Remy Grant case where he was supposed to be a computer genius yet he didn't pick up that Grant had been framed, nor did he track down the money trail – either time actually. Having to deal with supervisory duties on top of his usual work was clearly too much, probably because he was too busy agitating. Even years later, in Bounce he never expressed any remorse for his part in convicting an innocent man or acknowledged any level of responsibility – spent most of the time acting insubordinately toward Tony, who was team lead. Clear signs of his immaturity in not to be able to separate his personal feelings from the job.
And one of the clear job duties of a SFA is to support their team leader at all times in whatever ways they require, which he clearly didn't fulfil since he should have quashed any rumblings or insubordination – not encouraged it. He even stood by and allowed Abby and Ziva to attack each other and he did nothing to stop it or reprimand them, again not fulfilling his duties as SFA.
He was still so green operationally, that when Gibbs was blown up on the Cape Fear, along with the other agent during Part 1 of Hiatus, he was unable to do his job processing the scene, which again was a sign of his lack of years on the job. Several weeks before that, he again showed his inexperience in Bait by turning up to the scene of the hostage siege wearing shoes that squeaked every time he moved. If they had been stalking armed suspects through say a warehouse, he could have given away his and other team members presence/position and could even gotten them killed or wounded. Not checking his own equipment before entering the field was a serious error of judgement and again a sign of his immaturity as a field agent. How could he be expected to supervise others and be responsible for their safety?
In Vanished, he let Abby "persuade" him into taking unneeded evidence samples because she was so convinced an alien had made the crop circle. I believe she promised to show him her new tattoo so he was nowhere near ready to take on a supervisory role where he held authority over other agents when he could be persuaded so easily to ignore procedure. Want more examples? I have many more I can supply from canon but this A/N is already far too long. Yet I am tired of people making claims that are patently wrong just because they like a character and are blind to reality. I will state again, an agent (and I don't care who it is) who has only two years of law enforcement FIELD experience, regardless of their educational background, IQ or where they got their degrees, is not considered competent to supervise and take on the heavy responsibility for the lives and welfare of other agents/ cops. If the team leader/ or superior was incapacitated or killed, it is the job of the SFA to step up and lead the team in the field and there is now way that anyone of such limited field experience could or should do that. This is how it is in the real life, and for damned good reasons. So I stand by my comment which was a simple statement of fact – not character bashing!
