END OF THE LINE
CHAPTER 12
"Where's Gibbs?"
Tim was wondering the same thing himself. It was eight-thirty, late by NCIS standards but for Leroy Jethro Gibbs, unheard of. The only reason Gibbs wouldn't have made an appearance in the bullpen by now was if he was already in an early meeting with Vance. As Vance was the one asking the question that left only one other reason, he was sick. But that was impossible. Gibbs never got sick.
"He is having car trouble…"
"He's just left the hospital…"
Tim flushed under Ziva's glare, then got mad at himself for feeling guilty. It wasn't his fault they didn't get their story straight before replying. Vance had caught them unawares. He was worried about him, they both were. Gibbs hadn't been himself since Tony disappeared, but given the circumstances it wasn't that unusual. The boss took it personally if anything happened to one of them, his instinct to protect making him grouchier than usual. His bottled up rage showed itself in a number of ways, but tardiness wasn't one of them.
Vance's steely gaze said without words just what the guy was thinking. Tim tried not to squirm under his scrutiny, but couldn't help feeling like a kid who'd been caught red-handed passing along a note in class. In hindsight that wouldn't have been such a bad idea, if they'd had the time. Part of him knew Gibbs wouldn't want them lying for him, but he couldn't let the boss down. He needed to at least try and salvage the situation. "Gibbs called, Director. He said he'd be late. When he went to leave the hospital his car wouldn't start."
Vance raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said he'd already left the hospital, McGee."
"McGee is correct. It took a while but he eventually managed to get it to start. However…as he has been there all night he wanted to stop at his apartment to change and shower." Ziva finished the explanation looking as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.
Tim was impressed and made a mental note never to play her at poker, but he could tell by the way Vance was still watching them he wasn't. There was an uneasy silence before he spoke. "Fine…tell Gibbs I want to see him as soon as he arrives."
"Yes, Director…"
It was the second time in minutes they'd replied in unison and Tim tried not to figit as Vance drew them a final scathing look before slowly shaking his head as he strolled away. Ziva continued playing it cool, and he followed her lead as he studiously stared into his computer screen, banging on the keyboard, until his team mate signalled Vance was safely in his office out of earshot.
"Where could he be? When Abby and I went to visit Tony last night, Gibbs had already left."
"He's not answering his cell either." Tim muttered, uncertain what to do next. The boss had pulled in a lot of late nighters so if he was catching up on some sleep he couldn't blame him. Then again, if something had happened to him he'd never forgive himself. He got to his feet in one fluid movement. "Ducky might know…
"Ducky might know what?" The man himself appeared at the edge of the bullpen.
"Gibbs is missing, Ducky." Ziva explained. "No one has heard from him since he went to the hospital last night."
"Really? That is strange. I was there when he arrived. I know it was his intension to sit with Tony for a few hours."
"He was gone by the time Abby and I arrived at twenty-hundred hours." Ziva said, sounding concerned.
The ME picked up the nearest phone and after a short monosyllabic conversation he replaced the receiver on its cradle. "Leave it with me. I believe I know exactly where to find him."
ooooOoooo
Gibbs couldn't remember the last time he'd suffered a hangover. It wasn't that he didn't drink. Sometimes he even drank to excess but never if he was working the next day, and never to the point where he was falling down drunk. At least not until last night.
His head was thumping worse, he didn't have a damn clue how long he'd been out. The room swam when he prised open his gritty eyes but he ignored the lightheaded feeling and sat bolt upright when he caught sight of his wrist watch.
"I imagine you must have quite the headache." Ducky's face swam into view, the older man cringing as he held up the empty bottle of bourbon. A bottle he'd only opened the day before. "Here…this will help."
The short glass contained a fizzy, cloudy liquid. He glanced at it and the ME with distaste before downing it in a single gulp. Gibbs wasn't in the mood for conversation. Hell, he wasn't in the mood for much of anything. He barely acknowledged the ME's presence, ignoring his outstretched hand as he hauled himself off the basement floor and onto his feet.
His back ached and there was a crick in his neck, but didn't say a word. He had only himself to blame.
He'd lost it when Tony had freaked out. Stella had dealt with it like a pro, quickly and quietly pushing a sedative into his IV, murmuring quiet reassurances until Tony's ragged breathing once again slowed down to a normal rhythm. As for him, he'd barely waited until he saw he was going to be okay before storming out without a word. Why? He'd recognized the reaction for what it was. Tony, comatose or not, had reacted to his touch. The touch of a man's hand, his hand, had sparked off a flashback to his ordeal. Gibbs couldn't get the image of his battered body arching against the convulsions out of his head. Tony's face contorted in pain and fear would live with him the rest of his life. He felt like crap. The last thing he'd wanted was to cause him more pain.
What Stella must be thinking he didn't know. All he did know was that he'd failed him. Failed to save him from the inhuman abuse he'd suffered in that warehouse. Failed to reach him before he'd got so damned sick, he nearly died. Part of him knew he needed to get past the guilt to help him, but right now he was doubtful if he could even help himself. The sound of a discreet cough reminded him he wasn't alone.
"The Director has been asking for you. Your team has covered for you admirably but…"
"I didn't ask them too."
"But they did. They are worried about you, Jethro, as am I." Ducky eyes looked sad as they searched his face. "I called the hospital…I know what happened."
He went to grab for the bottle then realizing it was empty, leaned against the workbench and let out a long sigh while rubbing his forehead. "Tony was running a high temp. When Stella appeared with a bunch of wet wipes and asked if I wanted to help…I couldn't say no." His mouth twitched and he huffed out a mirthless laugh. "Come to think of it, I think the kid knew I was feeling useless just sitting there watching…He freaked out when I touched him, Ducky - went into convulsions. The machines were blaring…I thought I'd damn well killed him. He thought I was one of them. Tony was afraid of me…"
He raked a hand through his hair spiking his headache, but he didn't care. He could feel his eyes grow moist, heard his voice thicken but held the unshed tears at bay. He wasn't a man who cried and wasn't about to start now.
"Oh, Jethro…" Ducky went to put a hand on his arm, but he wasn't about to accept pity. He rushed past him taking the stairs two at a time, not stopping under he dived into the shower.
He wanted to linger under the hot, stinging spray but old habits died hard. Less than ten minutes later he was washed, dressed and back in the kitchen. Ducky limped over and laid out a stack of toast and a mug of coffee on the table. It struck him as ironic that twice in two days someone was making themselves at home in his kitchen, but he bit back a retort. Besides, this was Ducky. He was one of his oldest friends, someone who'd saw him at his worst, but stuck with him anyway. Gibbs sank into the chair and wordlessly drank his coffee while the older man sipped his Earl Grey. He passed on the toast. His gut hurt but his lack of appetite had nothing to do with the booze.
"You need to stop torturing yourself, Jethro…"
Gibbs burned his mouth as he choked on his coffee. "I wasn't the one who was tortured, Ducky."
"Not physically…but I've seen how you push yourself when one of your family is hurt. How much sleep have you had the last few days? And when did you last finish a meal?" The ME sent him a long measured look, but he didn't reply. "I know the infamous Gibbs has a reputation of being invincible, but you aren't superhuman. You need to stop punishing yourself, Jethro. What happened to Tony wasn't your fault."
He wasn't in the mood to discuss it, so drowned the last of his coffee and took the mug over to the sink. "Do you know what Vance wants?" He asked over his shoulder while he rinsed out the mug.
For a moment Ducky said nothing, but disappointment and worry was written over his face. "No…He failed to share that with your team."
Gibbs pulled on his jacket and on autopilot went to lift his car keys but drew back his hand at the last minute, his nagging headache a timely reminder he'd had too much to drink. It would be some hours before he'd be legal to drive.
Ducky anticipated the request before he had the chance to ask. "My car is parked across the road."
"Thanks…"
"Do you want to stop by the hospital first?"
He felt his gut clench as the guilt came flooding back. "Have you called this morning?"
From the expression on the older man's face his attempt to divert the conversation wasn't missed, but after a slight pause he replied. "Tony is continuing to improve. Last night's episode has not set him back in any way."
Gibbs knew Ducky wouldn't lie to him, no matter how bad things were and he felt some of the tension leave his body. "Good…but I'll visit later."
As he went to leave Ducky put a hand on his arm stopping him from opening the door. "Tony is going to need all the support he can to get through this – from you more than anyone. You have witnessed the aftermath of torture before. You know what the victims go through. The physical wounds will heal relatively quickly, but the mind, a person's emotions are more complex. He will need your help, Jethro."
"He'll get it…I'll pull him through whatever it takes."
ooooOoooo
Leon glanced at his watch when he heard the sharp, single knock at the door. It was nine-forty five. He didn't need X-ray vision to know who it was. The only surprise was Gibbs hadn't walked right in.
He'd never known the man to be late and wondered what the story was, but it could wait. There was a much more pressing matter to deal with. He signed off a report with a flourish, set his pen down and leaned back in his chair. "Come in…"
From his outward appearance Gibbs didn't look any different but he was paler than usual, and there was a tightness around his eyes and jaw that hinted at a headache. Curiosity got the better of him. The pressing matter could wait a little longer. "You're late."
Gibbs' face was impassive as he took the chair opposite. "Is that why you wanted to see me?"
Leon shot him a mild glare, opened a fresh toothpick and put it in his mouth. "No…just curious."
"What did my team tell you?"
He gave him a wry smile. "They covered, but I want to hear it from you."
"I never took you as a hall monitor, but if you want to put a reprimand on my file – knock yourself out." Gibbs frowned and he rose from his seat.
"Fine…don't tell me, but sit down. I'm not done yet."
Leon could tell something was wrong, but Gibbs was clearly not in the mood for sharing. Then again he rarely was. The ex-marine wasn't a big conversationalist at the best of times, still, he thought their relationship had improved over the last couple of years. He was disappointed he didn't trust him enough to let him in. "How's DiNozzo?"
"They say he's improving, but he's still on the vent."
A flash of pain crossed his features and Leon got his answer, at least part of it. "DiNozzo's tough, he's going to be okay…are you?"
He raised his eyes with thinly veiled impatience. "I'm fine. So…apart from asking after my health, why do you want to see me?"
Frustrated, Leon was going to challenge him but decided to let it go. Gibbs was going to be pissed with what he was going to tell him, so there was no point in poking the bear. "I received a call from Senator McGovern. He wasn't best pleased we'd been snooping into his nephew's financials."
"Who's his nephew?"
"Commander Stephen Armstrong…Brownlee's boss." He said quietly, in an attempt to minimize the fallout. "Look, Gibbs if we have something on this guy I have no problem in dealing with the senator. If we don't…we have to let it go. I don't mind making enemies, but not if I don't have a leg to stand on."
"Look, Leon, we have evidence to tie Williams and Brownlee to Tony's assault, but we're still no closer as to who killed them. Personally, I would like to give the guy who did it a medal…but there's a kid who's going to grow up without ever having known his dad. I want to be able to give him, and his mom justice." Gibbs spat out angrily.
"What about the restaurant owner?"
Gibbs shook his head. "Nah...A showy hit like that isn't Vicente's style."
Gibbs was right. It made what he had to say much harder. "If we can't make the connection to either Armstrong or Ferris, we have to drop it. We can't take the kind of heat that would come our way unless we have proof."
Gibbs glared at him. "Are you telling me to drop the investigation, Leon?"
"Unless you have any solid leads on either the murders or the robberies…then yes, I am."
Gibbs shook his head, not attempting to disguise his disgust and walked away.
Undaunted by his abrupt departure Leon called before he reached the door. "This is a big operation, Gibbs. I know there's a naval connection but lets face it, anyone could be behind it. What makes you think the problem is in-house?"
"My gut…"
ooooOoooo
"Tell me you have something…" Gibbs ground out as soon as he reached the bull pen.
Ziva's phone rang just as he got there leaving McGee to answer his question. "I'm sorry, Boss, but we've got nothing." He quickly came round from behind his desk and brought up the information on the screen. "If either of them is involved, I can't find any evidence. Unless…" A smile tugged at his mouth and his eyes widened. "Fine art! That could be it. Pictures, antiques, even rare books are more easily hidden than currency. They could have it stashed at home in plain sight. " He picked up his phone, "I'll get in touch with legal..."
He dragged a hand through his hair, feeling like pulling it out. "Forget it, McGee, Vance has pulled the plug."
McGee drew him a look. "We're stopping the investigation?"
"What do you think?"
Tim smiled. "Got it, Boss."
"Gibbs…"
"Ziva…did you hear any of that?"
She shook her head, but to Gibbs' mind she looked distracted. "What's wrong?"
"Tony is off the ventilator. He is asking for you."
ooooOoooo
TBC
Thanks again to all those who reviewed - the support is much appreciated!
I know that Tony didn't make an appearance in this chapter but I hope you enjoyed it anyway. And please review! I love to know your thoughts!
