Everyone was always telling him to be patient. Unfortunately, even on his best days, Anthony DiNozzo was not the most patient person he knew. He was even less patient when he was a patient. Tony's personal theory was that one should be allowed to screw the speed limit on the road to recovery. Sure, he played it up now and then over minor things, when his friends expected it of him, but when it came to the big stuff, Tony tried to keep his game face on. He would never admit it – not Tony, the attention whore - but deep down, he hated being coddled.
It had taken a few days, but Tony was finally able to see some progress. They'd moved him out of ICU and to a regular hospital room, and while they still wanted him to stick with soft things for awhile yet, the food he was being offered didn't look nearly as gross. It wasn't great, but hospital food was survival and little more as far as Tony was concerned.
The visiting hours were more restrictive on the regular units, and there was one supervisor who seemed to take great pleasure in enforcing them. Tony was doing well enough that Ziva couldn't really threaten anyone and get away with it, so between that and the fact that Ziva had gone back to work, Tony was left with a lot of downtime. The team was working cold cases now, at least until something major came along, so at least they were free in the evenings to stop in and see Tony.
Tony had already played – and lost – countless games of Solitaire on the laptop that McGee and Abby had set up for him, and he was contemplating something called InkBall, whatever the hell that was. The text-to-speech software's inflection was still annoying, but it was less annoying than not being able to communicate at all – and once he'd finally accepted it, Tony made it his personal mission to figure out how to use it to make the world a weirder place for those around him. Especially once he found the pre-programmed jokes. Apparently, the software's creators had figured people who couldn't talk would need some icebreakers. Even though the jokes were really bad, Tony found it hysterical to hear the computer reciting them in its monotone. Darth Vader had amused him for a time, as had some of the celebrity voices McGee and Abby put in, but Tony had eventually settled on a man's voice named Charles. He had a British accent. There was something awesome about a talking computer with a British accent. Tony had been disappointed when he had run out of James Bond jokes to torment his friends with.
InkBall was confounding, and Tony had learned from previous hospital stays that there was absolutely nothing of worth on basic cable on during weekday afternoons. Fortunately, a knock on the door saved him from having to find something else to do.
"Hey, there." It was Scott, the speech therapist that had visited Tony the day before. "I've got good news for you."
Tony perked up. That sounded promising.
"I just looked at your latest scans," Scott continued, "and they look fantastic. The swelling in your neck and throat has really improved." He smiled. "That means it's time for you to learn how to talk again."
That was exactly the sort of news Tony wanted to hear. None of the boring details about how well he was swallowing – he knew that; he wasn't drooling. He had tried to imitate the things he'd seen in movies a couple days ago, putting a finger over the trach and trying to talk, but all it had done was send him into a coughing fit. He hadn't tried it again since. His lungs were abused enough without any help from their owner.
Scott looked around the room. "It's kind of boring in here, huh?"
Tony nodded. That was getting easier since they had gotten rid of the thicker bandages. It didn't even tug on his stitches if he was careful.
Scott grinned and held a hand out to Tony. "Care to take a walk? The dayroom down the hall is deserted. It's no skyline view, but it's something different to look at, and the sun keeps it warm this time of day."
Delighted with an excuse to leave his room, Tony stood up and stretched. The hospital staff had told him he could have his pajamas brought in if he wanted to wear them. That would have been great, except Tony didn't think they meant to wear his boxers and a well-worn t-shirt. He had managed to bat his eyes and flirt with the night shift aide, scoring a pair of hospital scrubs, and he wore those. He had been to the dayroom before, yesterday, and it wasn't anything to write home about, but it was better than being cooped up.
Once they got situated in the dayroom, Scott reached into his pocket and pulled out a round piece of purple, molded plastic. "This little gem is one of the speaking valves we use around here. It was invented by someone who actually had a trach, so it does its job well. The only thing is, some people can tolerate it and some can't. It requires you to breath differently through the trach." He leaned toward Tony, and slipped the valve onto the trach.
Tony wasn't sure what was supposed to happen, but everything seemed all right at first. He exhaled, and felt a little resistance. Breathing in was okay. He tried to say hello, and things went downhill from there. It triggered a coughing fit, and coughing was even harder with the valve on. Scott put a hand on Tony's shoulder, removing the valve with the other hand, and waited for Tony to recover. Tony scowled at the valve, trying to rile his anger up to cover his disappointment.
Scott patted Tony's shoulder. "Hey, don't give up just yet. Some people get used to the valve. We'll give you one to take home, just in case. But I have other tricks up my sleeve. We'll try this old-school. Cover the trach with your hand and see how you breathe."
Tony did, and though it required effort, he found it was tolerable. He'd done it in his room before, knowing from being nosy on the Internet on his laptop that covering the trach for periods of time was the first step to removing it. As long as he didn't do it for too long, he was okay. He let go to take a breath and looked to Scott for guidance.
"Now, you do it again, but this time, try to say something while you've got your finger in place."
Tony was skeptical, given what happened the last time he tried it.
"Done this before?" Scott guessed. Tony had hoped his face wouldn't give him away, but he nodded. "It might have been too soon. When you had all the swelling in the way, the air wasn't able to get through, and you need the air to produce sound. We'll try it again; just be gentle."
Tony steeled himself, just in case it didn't work, and covered the trach. "Um, hi?" It sounded scratchy, very hoarse, but it was his voice. He had to pause for breath afterward, but he'd actually been able to say something after days of silence.
"Well, hello." Scott grinned. "As you get used to it, you'll be able to say more in one go. Just don't plan on reciting the Gettysburg Address for awhile."
Tony tried it again. "No problem." He was elated with his own success. It seemed like such a little thing, but it was freeing to know he wouldn't have to depend on the computer until he was able to have the trach removed. The doctor had told him that would still be a couple of weeks, until his trachea had healed more. "Thank you."
"You're very welcome," Scott said. "Just don't get too excited and strain yourself. It's tempting, but this is still an unnatural way that your body has to get used to. You don't want to give yourself laryngitis."
Tony nodded, still smiling. On the way back to his room, he saw Ziva, Abby, and McGee coming down the hall. They picked up their step to join him.
"I'll see you tomorrow," Scott told Tony, waving as he headed off down the hall. Tony waved back, then smiled at his friends.
Abby quickly moved in to claim her hug. "Hi, Tony!"
Tony hugged her back, then headed into his room, sitting on the edge of the bed. He reached for the laptop.
McGee looked dubious. "You're not going to threaten to mail me a bobcat again, are you?"
Tony shook his head and held up a finger, willing himself not to smile. Surprising McGee with a threat from an old edition of one of his favorite geeky comic strips had been well worth the search time invested. He powered up the laptop, acting like he was going to type something, then covered his trach instead. "Surprise."
McGee blinked for a second before he smiled, the rare smile reserved for when he was happiest. Abby shrieked in delight, covering her mouth with her hands. Ziva laughed, grinning as well. It was music to Tony's ears. His voice sounded like crap, but he had it back. Things could only get better from there.
Ziva was still smiling when she moved closer to Tony. "I am sure you will be using it to drive us crazy in no time, but for now, I have never been so glad to hear you speak."
"Never?" Tony teased.
Ziva looked thoughtful. "Well, perhaps once or twice." She swatted Tony's arm playfully. "It is no matter. Now what will you do with your computer?"
Tony smiled, and hit play on the laptop with something he had found in his idle searching. Abby recognized the song immediately, as Tony had hoped she would.
"Ooh, Crüxshadows! I love them!" Abby clasped her hands in front of her.
McGee nodded. "Yeah, they play all the time at -" He stopped, and looked at Tony. "A convention some of my friends go to."
Tony gave McGee a look, raising his eyebrows. After all, how would McGee know the bands – especially one known for their goth rock – if he hadn't been there. And if it was the same convention as the YouTube video Tony had found, that place looked like Geek Mardi Gras.
McGee squirmed a little. "I might have gone once...or twice." He continued to melt under Tony's gaze. He always did. "Okay, I go when I'm not working the weekend it falls."
Tony laughed and filed this tidbit away for future reference if needed – but, then, if the claims of thousands of scantily clad women were even halfway true, Tony thought he might have to check the thing out someday. As long as he made sure McGee never found out about it.