AN: Thank you all super-much for the encouraging reviews! I wanted to get something out to you during the break, so here's your reward! Hope you enjoy!
And don't forget to review on your way out. Even if it's only 2 words! 2 is better than nothing and I'll take what I can get ;)
McGee wrung his hands nervously as he sat next to Ziva in the waiting room of Bethesda. The two had just arrived after tying up all the loose ends at the cemetery. Lieutenant Ryker had been found, safely sleeping right where Tony had said she was. She was currently in her own room of the hospital, sedated and resting comfortably as machines pumped any remaining toxins out of her bloodstream.
The groundskeeper had been brought in for questioning, but in his present mental state, it was decided that he was not a credible witness. He was enrolled in mandatory sessions with a highly recommended psychologist, Dr. Callie Summers. If his condition improved within a few months, they would get his statement then.
The scene had been investigated and cleared. With Ryker dead, the case was officially closed and the team's only focus was Tony.
Gibbs was currently off searching for someone who could give him update on the agent. He'd ridden with him in the ambulance, but as soon as the hospital doors opened, he was whisked away, out of Gibbs's sight.
Ducky had disappeared as soon as he arrived, presumably to help attend to or at least look in on Tony. It had been hours since anyone had seen Tony, and everyone was on edge. It was the typical hospital waiting game…And no one wanted to play. Even Abby had a dark cloud over her head. The energetic Goth was snapping at anybody within a two-foot radius.
"Would you stop fidgeting, McGee?!" Abby said, irritated. She had sped to the hospital as soon as she heard about Tony. Her patience had been put to the test in the few hours at the hospital. She wanted to see Tony. She wanted to see Tony now.
"Look, I'm just as worried as you are, but there's no need for you to take it out on me!" McGee argued.
"That's not fair, McGee!" she countered.
"Will the two of you stop bickering!" shouted Ziva. Her face was pale, except for the dark smudges of dirt she had yet to wash off. Anger flashed briefly through her eyes, but was quickly replaced by fear. Fear of Tony's future. Fear of her own if he didn't survive.
Seeing the pain in Ziva's eyes, Abby wrapped her arms around her and softly said, "I'm sorry, Ziva. We're just scared. I know you are, too. We won't fight any more." She turned to McGee and mouthed words of apology. He gave an understanding smile.
"Am I interrupting something?" a voice said from the doorway. All three heads shot up in unison, gazing upon Gibbs's face. Concern and anticipation was etched in all their features as they waited desperately for news.
Gibbs shook his head and said, "Ducky's on his way to bring us up to speed. All I know is Tony's stable and in ICU." Everyone relaxed a bit in relief, but the tension was still present, as they didn't know the specifics of Tony's condition. Without details, none of them could relax completely. In fact, they probably wouldn't be able to relax until they saw Tony for themselves.
Everyone's eyes flew to the door as Ducky walked through, taking a deep breath. He didn't waste time in informing everyone of Tony's condition. His eyes panned the group, who listened intently to his words.
"Tony's in ICU right now. They treated him for asphyxiation and a few minor injuries. He's on a ventilator," Ducky said. Upon seeing the shock on their faces, he continued, "They wanted to be safe, especially because of his medical history. His lungs were already compromised from the plague, and being deprived of oxygen for so long did him no favors. It's a miracle there was no brain damage. Tony was a lucky young man, as usual." McGee smiled at the thought which was so similar to what he had been thinking mere hours ago. "The doctors are monitoring him closely. They are very wary of delayed shock…And because his heart stopped, they think his cardiovascular system was weakened." This elicited a small gasp from Abby. Ducky looked at her calmly and said, "But the fact that they brought him back with only one shock from the defibrillator is a good sign. It means he wasn't too far gone before you got to him. No other serious injuries were sustained, thankfully."
As the information sunk in, Gibbs asked, "What other injuries did he have, Duck?"
The M.E. sighed before replying. "He had a minor concussion, 3 broken toes, and a sprained wrist, along with some extensive abrasions on his hands. The cuts were mostly superficial, albeit painful. However, some were more severe and required stitches. The doctors believe they removed all the splinters from his skin and if any remain, they'll work out of his system in their own time."
Everyone was silent for a moment as they reflected upon the manner in which the injuries were sustained. Trying to dig and bash your way out of a closed coffin would have that effect on a person's body...
Ducky continued talking, hardly noticing the others' silence. "They should take him off the ventilator in a few hours or less if his lungs respond well. And he'll need to be kept on oxygen for 3-4 days after that. When he goes home, they'll send him with an oxygen tank, just in case. One can never be too careful. But all in all, the prognosis is good. They believe his physical injuries should heal up in a few weeks maximum."
This got Gibbs's attention. "What do you mean physical injuries?"
Ducky smiled sadly. "Jethro, I know you think of the boy as resilient and unshakably strong, as you trained him to be. But everyone has their breaking point. And even Anthony couldn't possibly come out of this unscathed. He was buried alive, Jethro. I'm not sure even I can grasp what he went through. The hopelessness, the panic, the despair. I shudder to think of how it feels to be in that situation. This isn't going to just blow over. This time, it'll take more than a few days in the hospital to recover. Anthony's going to need our support now more than ever."
Ducky's words struck a chord in everyone and they took a few more moments to compose themselves. Ziva took a deep breath and straightened her back, gently brushing off the smudges of dirt on her shirt. Though she would like nothing more than to find a secluded corner and cry her heart out, she knew she couldn't have that luxury. I must be strong. For Tony, she told herself.
"When can we see him?" Abby asked quietly. Everyone was so focused on Ducky's answer that no one noticed McGee's hand clasped firmly around hers. She gently stroked the back of it, grateful for the physical support.
"He'll be awake anytime now and I'm sure he'd welcome a visit from friends."
No one wasted any time. They all began walking toward the ICU, Ducky in swift pursuit. In less than a minute, they were poised outside Tony's room, ready to enter. Behind them, Ducky said decisively, "Perhaps interaction in moderation would be best. We mustn't suffocate the boy."
Everyone cringed at the statement. Even Ducky himself closed his eyes a moment, willing himself not to dwell on the insensitive wording.
"I'm sorry," he recovered quickly. "What I mean to say is we shouldn't overwhelm him with an abundance of visitors. He's been through quite the ordeal and needs his rest."
Gibbs nodded his acknowledgement before walking quietly into the room. McGee looked tenderly at Abby, who glanced inconspicuously at Ziva. With a soft smile, she tightened her grip on McGee's hand and pulled him gently down the hallway, toward the waiting room.
Seeing the movement, Ziva turned around suspiciously, opening her mouth in question. Abby looked over her shoulder, smiled, and winked. It was all the answer Ziva needed. She silently followed Gibbs's lead, slipping through the doorway and entering the room.
Tony was lying flat on the bed, unmoving except for the artificial rise and fall of his chest. His hands were wrapped in heavy gauze, the bandages covering the gruesome wounds in his flesh. With the blanket covering the majority of his body, no other visible signs of his suffering could be seen. But he was no doubt in great distress, both physically and emotionally.
Gibbs stood stoically beside the bed, gazing upon the peaked face of his agent. His eyes absorbed the many wires, machines, and tubes, yet saw only Tony. His singular focus was the man before him. The man who had once again fought through hell and come back again. When does it end, Tony? Gibbs asked his agent. No sound left his mouth. None was meant to. Somehow, words never seemed necessary when communicating with Tony. In hindsight, the lead agent wondered if perhaps words were more important than he thought.
Ziva glided into the chair next to Tony's bed. She sat down and lightly took his hand in her own. For a moment, she forgot about Gibbs's presence and lost herself in the steady rhythm of Tony's chest, calming her fears and putting her mind at ease, if only slightly. Her slender fingers stroked the rough bandages, her hand squeezing gently in support.
They maintained this position for about five minutes, neither speaking a word to the other. Both were lost in thoughtful concern for their partner, their colleague, their friend. Their attentiveness paid off as they saw Tony's brow furrow and his fingers twitch.
He was waking.
