Gibbs checked his watch and picked up the pace a little as he strode swiftly along a corridor at Georgetown University hospital, heading for his senior field agent's room. He was late. The quick update he'd envisaged delivering to Vance had turned into a very heated conference call in MTAC with the SecNav and Tobias Fornell, who over the years seemed to have become the FBI's go to guy when having to deal with Gibbs. The heated exchanges about the level of involvement NCIS should have in what was essentially an FBI investigation, who should be responsible for providing protection for Tony's little brother and the choice of safe house had raged on until lunchtime. Finally, the details had been thrashed out and gruff goodbyes exchanged, leaving Gibbs angry and dissatisfied.
He was just passing the nurses' station, when he picked up what sounded like a rapid yet muffled monologue coming from a room a little way ahead. DiNozzo, he thought with an amused half smile. Apparently his agent had taken the earlier dressing down to heart and agreed to be medicated for the journey home. Gibbs gave a cursory knock at the door and pushed it open to see the younger man was already dressed in a comfortable set of sweats, his left arm strapped securely across his body and a brace on his damaged knee. He was sitting in the obligatory wheelchair and looked delighted to see Gibbs.
"Hi, Boss!" Tony practically carolled. "Trussed up, doped up and ready to travel as ordered, Sir! Oops, he doesn't like being called sir ya know," he confided in an exaggerated aside to the amused orderly waiting to wheel him to the exit. "Call him MISTER Tibbs, um Gibbs" he growled in a fair imitation of Sidney Poitier before pausing and looking perturbed. "Only we're not supposed to call him that either 'cause he's a super special agent guy an' not a mister. Guess we're gonna have to stick to boss, huh Boss?"
"I think that would be your safest bet, DiNozzo," Gibbs agreed with a mock growl of his own.
"Where's the triple 'D'ster, Boss?" Tony asked, leaning forward and to the side in a precarious attempt to look past the older man and into the corridor. Just when it looked as if he was about to pitch head first onto the floor, the attentive orderly lunged forward, managing to steady him and pull him back. "I thought he could go on his first ride-along with me," Tony continued, patting his knee clumsily with his good hand as if nothing had happened.
"Knowing you, no doubt there'll be other opportunities," Gibbs observed wryly. "I wasn't sure what condition you'd be in and I didn't want him to see you in pain."
"But you ordered me to get drugged up, Boss," Tony pointed out plaintively.
"Like you follow my orders all the time!" Gibbs commented with a snort.
"I do Boss," Tony replied earnestly. He paused for a few seconds as if deep in thought and then added, "Well except when you're gonna do something dangerous or get yourself blown up acourse. Did ya know Gibbs has been blown up twice?" he asked the orderly. "That was 'cause I wasn't with him to watch his six. Didn't happen when I was there and they were gonna blow up the country club, did it, huh?"
"You got you're discharge papers?" Gibbs cut in, hoping to change the subject.
"Sure and Special Agent, Ninja Chick's got my meds," Tony burbled happily, pointing to where Ziva was holding a full paper bag. "Hey Boss, you'll never guess what Roy's called," he said gesturing towards the orderly. He paused again and frowned. "Um, guess you kinda do now, huh?" Tony's grin reappeared and he exclaimed, "Well anyway...he's Roy Rogers! You know, as in the singing cowboy? Roy Rogers and Trigger?"
Just when Gibbs was beginning to fear DiNozzo might burst into song, a voice behind him asked, "Ready to go Mr DiNozzo?"
"Nurse Debbie! Long time no see! How are you?"
"I'm fine Tony, same as I was when you asked me five minutes ago," she answered good-naturedly, offering a sympathetic smile to Gibbs. "The attending physician, Doctor Danvers, was hoping to find a painkiller Agent DiNozzo could tolerate without causing these manic episodes," she confided quietly. "However, when he contacted Doctor Pitt over at Bethesda for a consult, they both decided that, as the most promising alternatives can cause respiratory complications, it would be safer to leave well alone given Tony's medical history."
"Ah, I see," Gibbs replied, with an understanding nod. "Thanks for all your help."
"My pleasure," she told him with a smile. "Feel better Tony."
"Feeling mighty fine already, Nurse Debbie, mighty fine!" Tony assured her as the orderly started pushing him out of the door. "C'mon Roy, lets get the hell outta Dodge!"
Gibbs waved Ziva to one side as she made to follow. "We're going to an FBI safe house at this address, " he informed her, handing over a slip of paper. At her look of surprise he admitted, "It was a compromise to ensure NCIS retained control of the protection detail. Abby and Davey are already there, with Agent Balboa's team taking first watch. I want you in charge of security outside. Anything you're not happy about and you contact me immediately, understand?"
"No one will get past me Gibbs," Ziva vowed with a murderous glint in her eyes.
Gibbs inclined his head in acknowledgement and they turned to follow after the wheelchair, listening to Tony's thoughts on everything from the boring hospital décor to how the designer of hospital gowns was probably a closet Peeping Tom.
At last they emerged into the open air and after a little manoeuvring, managed to get Tony settled as comfortably as possible in the front seat of the car. After thanking the orderly and watching Ziva head over to her own vehicle, Gibbs slid into the driver's seat and started the engine.
"Really wanted to be a cowboy when I was a little kid - one with a white hat acourse," Tony commented sleepily. "Not as white as Roy's...too much...goody two-shoes. Maybe like Randolph Scott...James Stewart...not perfect, but stand up guys..." As his voice faded away, he made a little huffing noise and was asleep in seconds, his head sliding to rest on the window of the passenger door.
"You may not have become a cowboy DiNozzo, but you're definitely one of the good guys," Gibbs murmured affectionately as he pulled away from the kerb.
The early afternoon traffic was unusually heavy and Gibbs was grateful Tony had fallen asleep. He needed to concentrate and the younger man's constant chatter would have been an amusing yet unnecessary distraction. He weaved quickly through the traffic and defied anyone to follow him without revealing their presence; even so, he took an indirect route just to make sure and eventually pulled up outside a high-end apartment block in Crystal City a half hour later.
"DiNozzo, we're here," Gibbs called, gently nudging his passenger.
After a few seconds and further urging, Tony managed to open decidedly bleary eyes and mutter a half coherent, "Huh?" He blinked rapidly, trying to bring his eyes into focus. When he succeeded he didn't recognise his surroundings. "Where are we?"
"Safe house," was Gibbs' curt reply, exiting the car and quickly making his way around to the passenger door.
"Aw c'mon Boss! I just wanna go home and sleep in my own bed. The bad guy's dead, right?"
"Not my call DiNozzo!" Gibbs informed the younger man more sharply than he'd intended. "Besides, there's too many unanswered questions and you don't really want to put Davey in harm's way do you?"
"Yeah, well I've been thinking about that," Tony replied morosely. "If I'm gonna be responsible for a kid, I don't know if I should still be out in the field – especially after what happened yesterday. If my job cost Davey his life, I think I'd eat my gun!"
Gibbs' gut lurched at Tony's frank admission. He didn't want to voice their fears about Davey being the intended target of the hit and run out there on the street, so he just said, "You're a damned fine field agent DiNozzo. Do you think you could hack it being tied to a desk all day and, more importantly, would McGee survive?"
"What do you mean? Probie's all grown up and ready to take on the world without me, Boss," Tony observed proudly.
"I know that, DiNozzo, but he'd be a nervous wreck within a week wondering what pranks you were cooking up whenever we were out of the office," Gibbs replied with a quirk of his lips.
Tony gave a half-hearted grin in return. "Yeah, I see what you mean. Would be kinda fun, though" he admitted.
"You don't have to make a decision just yet," Gibbs pointed out reasonably. "You're in protective custody until we get to the bottom of this whole mess and even if we solve the case tomorrow, you're gonna be out of action for a couple of weeks."
Tony nodded in agreement but still made no attempt to get out of the car.
"You planning on staying in there all night, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked.
"Definitely considering it, Boss. I think everything seized up on the way over here," he confided with a rueful look on his face. "It'd probably be less painful just to sit here."
"You might be right, but it's a hell of a trip to the bathroom," Gibbs quipped. "Besides,it's not every day you get to stay in a penthouse apartment with top of the line everything, including a state of the art entertainment system, or so I've been told."
"Wow, how did you manage that?" Tony asked, grabbing Gibbs' proffered hand and attempting to swing his legs out of the car. This was going to hurt.
"Try not to tense up," Gibbs advised, ignoring the question and easing the younger man forward slowly. He knew any mention of FBI involvement would not go down well.
Though Tony's shoulder and damaged knee hurt like a bad toothache, it proved to be his hip that caused the most pain and had him gritting his teeth and gasping with every step. The extensive bruising severely limited his range of motion and even though he leaned heavily on Gibbs and most of the journey was in the elevator, it still took a good ten minutes before he was propped up against the wall outside the top floor apartment.
"Dammit, we should've taken them up on the offer of a wheelchair!" Gibbs growled, more angry at himself than DiNozzo as he took in the exhaustion and pain practically radiating off the younger man.
"I'm fine," Tony managed to choke out despite the slight trembling rippling through his body.
"Sure you are DiNozzo," Gibbs snorted sarcastically, "and I'm the poster boy for easy-going bosses!"
"You are a great boss, Gibbs," Abby insisted as she appeared at the door and caught his last comment. "Oh,Tony! Let's get you to bed. I've turned down the sheets and you can slide right on in there." Tony's lack of a cheeky comeback increased her concern and she hovered around the two men, leading them into the nearest bedroom and watching anxiously as Gibbs settled DiNozzo onto the bed.
Tony took the painkillers he was offered without batting an eyelid and was fast asleep before his head had properly settled on his pillow; the pinched look on his face smoothed out and Gibbs finally allowed himself to relax as he closed the bedroom door.
ncisNCISncis
The next morning, Tony insisted on moving out into the lounge area to attend the meeting with the FBI agents. He'd taken his meds early to ensure any side-effects would have subsided by the time Sacks and Nielson arrived and Abby had fussed around, arranging every available pillow and cushion in the apartment on the sofa to support his injuries. When the phone rang and McGee announced the agents were on their way up, he was happily settled and watching the Cartoon Network with Davey snuggled up next to him.
"I hear someone tried to use you as a hood ornament yesterday, DiNozzo," Sacks observed with an annoying smirk as soon as he entered the room with his partner.
"And I hear you couldn't even track down a suspect when he was lying dead in his own study, Slacks," Tony drawled back, effortlessly riling the other man.
"Our ME says he's only been dead a day at most and it doesn't look like he was killed there!" Sacks replied defensively.
"Abby, could you go play with Davey in his room for a little while," Gibbs asked mildly, gesturing to where the little boy was watching proceedings with wide, anxious eyes.
"Sure Boss-man," she agreed, jumping up from where she'd been sitting and quickly ushering Davey into one of the bedrooms.
"Right gentlemen, let's get down to business shall we?" Gibbs suggested, gesturing to the seats arranged around the coffee table. "Bring us up to speed and then we'll see what other information David can remember."
Nielson flipped open a file he'd brought with him and began, "Buchetta's wife last saw him alive on Wednesday. She said he'd been acting out of character for days. He was nervous and agitated, spending lots of time on the phone in his study. On Tuesday night over dinner, he alluded to some difficulties he was having with an associate and suggested she take the children and go visit relatives in Florida for a little while until the problems were resolved. He accompanied them to the airport the next morning and she spoke to him on the phone later that day to let him know they'd arrived safely. There was no contact after that and she became worried enough to fly home early this morning to check on her husband. When she entered the study, she found him dead on the floor."
"It doesn't look like he was killed there because there wasn't enough blood," Sacks interrupted. "There were marks on his body consistent with prolonged torture, but the cause of death was a single bullet to the brain." He paused and stared haughtily around the room. "Now we've played nice as ordered, we'd prefer to take DiNozzo's brother over to the Hoover building to question him and have our own men take over his protection. He has information vital to our investigation and NCIS really has no excuse for being involved."
"Over my dead body!" Tony replied bullishly, adrenalin coursing through his veins and allowing him to surge to his feet despite his injuries.
The two agents faced-off against each other, neither willing to back off until Gibbs stepped in as the voice of reason.
"The decision over David's protection has already been made by people more powerful than you Agent Sacks and he will remain the responsibility of NCIS until this whole mess is resolved," he insisted in a tone that brooked no argument. "Agent McGee has brought recording equipment and I will be asking the questions without any interruptions from anyone else in this room, is that clear?"
Sacks scowled darkly, obviously wanting to contest the point, but in the face of an uncompromisingly steely glare from the older man, he finally acquiesced and gave a nod of agreement.
"Good. I'll just go get him," Gibbs informed them. "Help yourselves to coffee," he added, pointing to the machine on the reproduction sideboard at the back of the room.
McGee, who'd unobtrusively stepped next to Tony to support him as the adrenalin rush had begun to wane carefully guided him back onto the sofa. "Want me to get your pills?" he whispered in concern, taking in the grey cast to Tony's complexion and the pinched look around his eyes and mouth. "You look like you could do with them right about now."
"I'd rather pull my own fingernails out with my teeth than give that bastard the satisfaction," Tony ground out quietly. "Never show weakness in front of the enemy, Probie." He managed a weak smile and added, "Could do with some water though, if you're offering."
"Be right back," McGee assured him, giving his good shoulder a comforting squeeze. Less than a minute later he was back with a glass of water and as he handed it over, he palmed Tony a couple of pills.
"McGee!" Tony hissed angrily.
"Just Tylenol, just to take the edge off, okay?" McGee assured him, moving slightly so that his friend was hidden from sight for a few seconds.
"Ah, Probie-san, you are becoming wise beyond your years," Tony intoned with a slight inclination of his head that had McGee grinning.
Gibbs soon returned with Davey and deftly lead him back through his comments of the previous day before starting to gently probe for more information. They soon established that Buchetta had visited the DiNozzo mansion late one evening shortly before Senior's death and that an argument had occurred.
"They were shouting real loud," Davey confided quietly. "The butcher man said father should help him because the chicken man was nasty and he was making something."
"Can you remember what kind of something?" Gibbs pushed lightly, trying to hide his concern when it crossed his mind that the 'something' might be a bomb. He fervently hoped they weren't about to uncover a terrorist threat.
Davey screwed up his face in thought, tipping his head to the side and chewing his bottom lip. Suddenly his face lit up and he exclaimed, "A move! That's what he said, he was making a move!" He looked puzzled for a moment and asked, "What's a move, Boss?"
Gibbs smiled fondly at the little boy, lifted him into his arms and gave him a quick kiss on the forehead. "Making a move just means you're going to do something kiddo, that's all."
"Oh, well the butcher man said the chicken man was gonna be bad," Davey said with a worried frown. "Father said no to helping and that the butcher man had to go and he did but he was real mad."
"Davey, did the chicken man ever see you?"
"Uh, huh,"Davey admitted in a whisper. "He was scary and shouted at father."
"Can you remember when that was or what he said?"
"A long time ago. After Maria went away," he answered sadly. "He said father was bad to like the butcher man after what he did, but he didn't say what it was."
"Chickens and rooster," Tony murmured sleepily from the sofa. "Roosters!" he repeated, suddenly seeming much more alert and trying to rise. "Ow! Ow! Triple ow! You'd think I'd have learned my lesson the first time I did that," he complained to no one in particular as he gingerly lay back down.
"DiNozzo, just what is it you think you've figured out," Gibbs demanded, anger covering his concern.
"A rooster is a chicken, right? And the Italian for rooster is Gallo," Tony explained with a grin. "Could be Davey's chicken man."
"Carmine Buchetta's old boss! Is there any chance he's not really dead after all?" McGee asked, looking over at Nielson who was feverishly sorting through some photographs in the folder in front of him.
"Ah, hah!" the FBI agent exclaimed as he found what he was looking for and held it up so everyone could see. "Salvatore was definitely murdered by Buchetta, no doubt about it, but this man has been making a name for himself in Nevada the last couple of years. Gentlemen, meet Giovanni Gallo, Salvatore's son and heir." He looked over to Davey and asked, "Is this the chicken man?" When the little boy gave a frightened nod, Nielson continued, "There've been rumours circulating for the last few months about a ruthless new player in town horning in on Buchetta's business. From what we've learned today, I'd say there's a pretty good chance it's Giovanni Gallo, returning to reclaim his birthright and avenge his father's death."
"What, and my father somehow got caught up in it?" Tony asked, his tone incredulous.
"Looks that way," Nielson confirmed grimly, "If Giovanni has invoked a blood feud against his enemies and he blamed your father for something, it gives us a motive for the murder and explains why you and your brother were targeted yesterday."
"It also means you're both still in danger until we catch the bastard," Gibbs observed angrily.