Okay, this is the way I originally envisioned this fic ending. I think you can see why I just couldn't do that to you. Warning. What is read cannot be unread.
There is NO character death. Even I couldn't go there.
Let me apologize in advance. Sometimes my brain goes to the angsty place.
For those who decide to proceed, let me know what you think.
There was pain. Pain where Tony was certain there shouldn't be pain anymore. This wasn't cramping or the residual contractions he knew had to come to finish the messy job of birth. This pain was deep, too deep, and it pulled at him hard, tried to tug him away and he felt himself slipping, slipping, losing to it little by little.
"Gibbs," he managed, sinking in on himself, fading even as he clutched at the mewling infant in his arms, clung to the sound of his husband's voice that called desperately to him.
"Tony…Tony, please," the voice begged distantly.
And he was gone.
Jethro had watched Tony writhe in pain for what seemed like hours. It was clear the pain medication they had pumped into his system was wearing off and yet everyone-people he trusted- told him it was necessary, reassured him that Tony needed to wake up so they could assess the damage and that he would get more morphine once he did.
Blood. There had been so much blood. Covering his hands, the ground, the shirt he tore from his body and pressed frantically to the younger man's wound.
And now he was doomed to wait. To watch. To hope.
Tony looked so pale against the crisp white of the sheets, against the bright red of the thin line running from the IV, up his arm, replenishing the life he had almost lost. Gibbs cursed himself for every wire, every tube running from the younger man's beautiful body, but most especially for the tightly packed gauze around his belly and each moan of pain that escaped his lips.
His name. He had been able to discern his name more than once, couched as it was inside nonsensical mutterings and whimpers as the morphine loosed its grip on Tony's mind and body.
'Gibbs…Jethro…' The latter so warm, so familiar. A frequent thing wrapped in meaning and emotion so deep…And then a new name, "Ella…Ella…"
How could his heart ache at just the sound of it?
And then the tears. The tears that seemed to stream endlessly from beneath Tony's closed lids to fall in fat, dark, wet plops on the impossibly bright linens.
"Tony," he muttered, stroking the hair back from DiNozzo's sweat-soaked forehead. "Tony…please." Gibbs was not a man who asked. He was a man who ordered. But today, today Tony's name on his lips was a wretched supplication, an urgent prayer.
Suddenly he knew. Felt the younger man with him as he had not been a moment before. He knew before the welcome flutter of DiNozzo's eyelashes, knew before the desperate grey-green of Tony's eyes focused on his beneath the harsh overhead lights, before the room was suddenly filled with doctors and nurses, and Tony clutched frantically at his fingers.
He knew that Tony was awake.
"Where is she?" His voice was hoarse but there was no mistaking the quiet panic rising in it.
"Where is who?" Gibbs soothed, allowing Tony to take his hand, surprised at how the contact seemed to be what he himself had been craving without knowing it.
"Ella. Please, Jethro. Where is she?" His eyes darted into every corner of the room, searched the faces of the medical personnel around him.
"I'm sorry, Agent Gibbs. We're going to need you to clear the bedside for just a few minutes while we continue to assess him."
A doctor whose name Jethro couldn't recall at the moment placed a hand on his shoulder and led him gently to the corner despite his protests.
"Nooo," Tony wailed, fighting weakly against the nurses and doctors who tried to check his IV sites and his bandages.
"Mr. DiNozzo, you need to calm down or you'll pop your sutures. We don't want to have to restrain you but we will if we have to" a nurse said patiently.
"Gibbs," Tony reached a hand out to where he stood and the desolate sound of his name from the younger man's lips made him ache in ways he had no words for.
"What's wrong with him?" Jethro asked, eyes never leaving Tony.
"Nothing, as far as we can tell so far, aside from the obvious. His speech appears to be normal and his pupillary reflexes are good indicating that the lack of oxygen due to the blood loss didn't cause brain damage. Do you know who he keeps asking for? Who Ella is?"
Gibbs shook his head, searching his brain for any source and coming up empty.
"It's possible it's just an after effect of the anesthesia. Some patients report incredibly vivid experiences while under sedation. We still don't fully understand the process," he explained. "It would be helpful if you could get him to calm down a little. He seems to respond to you." He went back to examining readouts on one of the many monitors around Tony's bed.
Gibbs moved in again now that some of the initial activity had died down.
"Jethro, I need to see Ella. Why won't they let me see her?" The quiet plea in Tony's voice was more than he could stand.
"What do you remember, DiNozzo?" he asked softly, taking Tony's hand again which seemed to calm him a little.
"I don't…what do you mean? You were there." Now he was getting frustrated.
Gibbs nodded. "The bust went bad. Accomplice hiding on the other side of the warehouse pulled a gun and you got caught in the crossfire. Bullet snuck in just under your vest somehow, got you in the gut. You were lucky. A hundred feet closer and it might have taken half your spine with it. "
Tony looked confused. "No. I wasn't…we were…no…" He shook his head as if trying to clear it and his eyes focused on Gibbs again and then widened. "No," he whispered, tears suddenly spilling down his cheeks again. "No…please." The pain of absolute loss filled the younger man's eyes and he clutched Jethro's hand.
"Mr. DiNozzo, everything looks good and we're going to give you more pain medication now. You should go back to sleep for a while," a nurse said sympathetically as she emptied a syringe into the port of his IV.
"You should have seen her, Jethro. God you should have seen her," Tony croaked mournfully as his eyes began to cloud over again.
"Who?" Gibbs asked. The pain in Tony's voice was so real, so palpable that he felt moisture on his own face.
"Our daughter," he sighed as his body relaxed back against the bed and his fingers went limp in Jethro's grasp. "She's so beautiful."
"Our…our daughter? Tony, I don't understand."
"Ella," Tony whispered as his eyes closed again, "her name is Ella." A faint smile turned up the corners of his mouth as consciousness fled.
"Ella," Jethro whispered, bringing Tony's hand to his lips for reasons he couldn't explain, even to himself. "Ella."
Sorry...:(
