Tony lethargically swung his uninjured right leg off his gurney as he amused himself by people watching in the hospital waiting room. He'd been brought to the ER almost thirty minutes before, but a series of serious emergency cases had prevented any prompt treatment, short of a glass of water and a medicine cup containing two Tylenol-3s. As long as he didn't move around too much, he couldn't feel a thing. He was a snug as a bear eating bamboo in the…he blinked hard. The pandas had really gotten in his head.
Fortunately, analgesics really put things in perspective. He looked around the waiting room. It was crowded with people who looked like they had minor complaints – colds mostly, maybe a few people with sprains and the like. There was a construction worker who had nailed his hand to a piece of wood who probably took precedence over Tony's injuries, but Tony knew he'd get in before the unfortunate wounded man. He'd been careful to make sure his badge was visible and at least two cute nurses had made 'officer down' jokes, which were surprisingly funny when no one was yelling it in regards to a co-worker. It was probably the pills.
The television in the waiting room was tuned to ZNN, but no one had noticed that he was one of the federal agents in the video from the Zoo that seemed like it was being replayed every ten minutes or so. After his heroic leap into the elephant enclosure, he would have been happy to sign autographs, but everyone was too occupied by their own health complaints to notice him. Hearing the news anchors joke about Ziva's close encounter of the pachyderm kind, however, was almost enough to make up for the fact that he was stuck in a hospital, by himself and without treatment. Beyond the wonderful painkillers, of course.
He'd just started playing a mental game of 'guess the STD' with some of the less obviously ill people when an ambulance sped into the driveway. He watched a group of frantically working doctors and nurses push a bloodied young woman past on a gurney, her face obscured by a mask and bag and a paramedic straddling her body as he performed chest compressions. Tony got only a glimpse of the dark-haired woman as she rolled past, but it was enough for him to decide her chances didn't look good. He settled back on his own gurney, prepared to wait for an hour before he started to become a difficult patient. He anticipated that at least one of his colleagues would be arriving before then. Hopefully Ziva.
He closed his eyes and smiled, picturing her face as she walked up the jetway and saw him waiting for her at the airport gate earlier that day. After his unsuccessful search for roses the previous night, he had managed to make it to the florist early that morning. The older lady who'd sold him the two dozen red roses had remembered him from almost six months earlier when he'd stumbled into the shop looking for the perfect get well bouquet. She'd smiled brightly when he'd told her his current purchase was for the same special someone who'd gotten the last bunch of flowers she'd arranged. She'd even gone so far as to say, "Make sure you remember our shop when it comes time for the wedding." He had smiled through his terror.
Wedding? Ziva had made it clear that even their living arrangement was temporary, and even though he'd given her the impression that he wanted her to stay as long as possible, he was secretly thrilled she wanted to go 'apartment stalking' at the first opportunity. His nerves were complicated by the fact that he didn't want her to scare her by making her think he was having any doubts. In spite of his complete confidence in their future, he was anxious. What if Moussad recalled her again unexpectedly and she had to get involved with or marry another arms dealer or terrorist or some other target? He didn't think he could cope with another Tushkevich. Worse, he knew she couldn't tell him if there were any other secret fiancés out there. Dating a spy was difficult.
Tony watched a dozen more patients walk through the automatic doors to check in and settle into the waiting room. ZNN continued replaying the Zoo footage, but didn't appear to have anything new to add. He sighed expressively and checked his watch. He'd been waiting for almost two hours and still nothing: no medical care, no recognition from the waiting room populace watching the news, no co-workers to wish him well and check up on him. He hadn't even gotten any calls.
An apple-cheeked nurse eventually approached him. "I'm sorry it's taken so long, Agent DiNozzo. We're going to take you down for x-rays now."
He grinned and shifted himself into a comfortable position. "Hey, I understand. It's not like I couldn't wait, like some of the people I saw come through." His painkillers were still working quite effectively.
She unlocked the wheels on his gurney and pushed him down the hall. "Yes, we've been hit hard today. We lost the poor girl you must have seen come past not long ago. Car accident. One of the police officers who came in with her said they couldn't even identify the car as a Mustang until they looked at the registration. It's true what they say – speed kills. Agent DiNozzo, are you all right?"
Tony tried to say yes, but his breath was too unreliable. He shook as he tried to catch it. Young dark-haired woman. Mustang. Speeding. "Please, do you know her name?"
"Who?" A pair of double doors banged against the walls as she continued to push him down the hall, following the yellow line.
He tried to turn to look at the nurse, but the width of the bed made it nearly impossible. "The woman who died in the Mustang."
"I'm sorry, but I can't share that information. HIPPA, you know. I've already said too much, I'm sure, but I think I can trust a federal agent. Hey!"
He jumped off the gurney, throwing his left arm out to catch himself on the wall as his ankle collapsed. He took a few shambling steps back toward the ER. "I need to know…"
"Agent DiNozzo! You get back on this gurney immediately!"
He felt several other pairs of hands join the nurse's as he tried to fight his way back to the ER. If he could only see the woman's face, know for sure. He reached into his pocket to feel the edge of the envelope he never wanted to open; it was still there. The prick of a needle in his neck called him back to reality temporarily. Some burly orderlies were lifting him onto his gurney and restraining him. The painkillers didn't do anything to counteract their actions, but he repressed his screams of agony to make one last effort to speak before he lost consciousness, "Please not her…"