He peered into the cold, black depths and waited. Two men appeared out of the gloom then surfaced; one gasping air, the other still and white. Was it like this before? No. Helping hands were waiting this time. That was different.
He watched one start CPR, wanting to help but intuitively knowing he couldn't. He rubbed his sternum in sympathy as a still chest was pumped relentlessly. His head spun as alternately demanding and pleading words were spoken over the unmoving form; breathe, dammit…stay with me.
He was confused; how did he get here?
"Where am I?"
He blinked as a figure materialized next to him.
"You're at the crossroads, Tony."
The voice helped clear the confusion and he remembered. Crazy Rhianne, Rory, and…drowning.
That was him on the floor of the boat; he was the one Gibbs was working so feverishly to bring back to life.
"You left me," Tony told Rory softly, tone faintly accusing.
The younger version of his own face grinned back at him. "Even a ghost can't be in two places at once, Tony. I was helping Gibbs find you." He turned somber. I'm sorry I had to leave you alone to do that," he explained, regret in the blue eyes. "There was no other way."
Tony nodded in acceptance; still watching Gibbs.
"Am I dead?" he asked Rory.
Rory shook his head. "I didn't have the choice to come back. You do, but not for much longer."
"Thank you for saving my life," Tony said earnestly, guessing his connection, and time with Rory was ending soon.
"I'm the one that should be thanking you. I can be at peace now that I've confronted my killer, and the truth of my death will be known. Ben can finally have closure, and it was our connection that allowed me to see him again."
"Will I be able to, uh…"
"See and hear me if you go back?" Rory finished for him, grinning impishly.
"Yeah."
"Once my body is finally laid to rest, my soul will be at rest too. I think then, the link will fade."
"I'm not sure how to get there," Tony admitted, looking down at his prone form uncertainly.
Tony watched as Rory knelt next to his body, opposite Gibbs. His hand hovered over where Gibbs' hands were pumping rhythmically, trying to restart a stubbornly still heart.
"You were a conduit for me, and now I can be one for you." Rory looked up at Tony fondly as his hand passed through Gibbs' to settle on Tony's chest, right over his heart.
"It's time to go back now, Tony."
Tony felt a tug inside and then an odd pulling sensation. Perspective shifted; vision blackened and hearing faded as the form suddenly arced and coughed.
Awareness flooded back, bringing pain and cold. Warm hands turned and supported him through an agonizing bout of coughing and expelling water that left him dazed and disoriented. A voice now came from above his prone body; once demanding and pleading, now warm with relief and affection. He latched onto that familiar, much loved voice, recognizing its owner as the one that had been his touchstone for so long.
"Welcome back, Tony."
NNNNNNNN
Gibbs startled from his doze as a nurse entered the room to check on Tony. He grudgingly scooted away from his partner's bed and gave her room to work. She smiled at him briefly, acknowledging the compromise. The hospital staff had already learned the older man not only refused to leave the room, he wouldn't be compelled to move much more than an arm's reach away from the man in the bed.
The nurse methodically checked and logged Tony's vitals, and Gibbs paid particular attention when she used the stethoscope to listen to Tony's lungs. Next, she lowered the blanket covering his torso and carefully lifted the dressing on Tony's side. The gunshot wound, which Tony called a graze, was actually a deep furrow in his side. Any further over and Tony would have a hole in him.
The nurse's touch was so gentle; Tony shifted restlessly but didn't wake. As she taped the dressing back in place and pulled the blanket back up, he managed to catch her eye with a questioning look.
"Everything looks good; no sign of infection," the nurse reassured him in a hushed voice.
"His lungs?" Gibbs asked.
"They sound fine; it really is unbelievable," the nurse replied, shaking her head in amazement.
Gibbs simply nodded. If they only knew exactly how amazing that really was. Gibbs had been certain that Tony would be in for a battle with pneumonia after drowning, particularly in light of his pre-existing lung damage from the plague. Except for the ugly bruising and cracked ribs from CPR, Tony showed no sign at all that he'd drowned. He'd held Tony as he coughed up what seemed like a gallon of lake water, but his lungs showed no sign of inhaling water. No fluid, no rales, nothing. He couldn't help but wonder if that little miracle could be a parting gift from Rory. He'd have to ask Tony about it later.
"I'll be back to check on you both in a couple hours," the nurse said, pointing at a breakfast tray that had been left for him. "I'll expect you to have finished that before I come back."
Gibbs resisted rolling his eyes at the mother-henning and thanked her.
Once they were alone again, Gibbs took the cup of coffee from the tray and reclaimed his place next to the bed. He resettled himself in the reasonably comfortable chair they'd brought in from one of the lounges, sipping coffee and taking Tony's hand in his, content to watch his lover sleep.
Tony escaped his ordeal remarkably unscathed, overall. Aside from the CPR related injuries and gunshot wound, which could have been far worse, he was recovering from hypothermia. The only thing that worried him was Tony had yet to throw off the lethargy and fatigue that set in because of everything he'd been through last night.
A short time later, his Tony-watching was interrupted by a tap at the door. He looked up to see Ben poke his head in the room. "Can I come in?" he asked with a tentative smile.
Gibbs waved him in, and rose to join him a short distance from the bed.
"How's he doing?" Ben asked quietly, inclining his head at the sleeping man.
"They say he's gonna be fine; thanks for asking," Gibbs smiled. "They'll probably cut him loose later."
"Good," Ben returned sincerely. "I…well," he hesitated. "I had my doubts for a few minutes there."
So did I, Gibbs thought.
"And how are you? I couldn't help but notice you're still in scrubs," Ben said, curiosity in his voice.
Gibbs looked down at the scrubs he'd been wearing since last night. He'd been suffering from a mild case of hypothermia when they first arrived in the ambulance. The hospital gave him the scrubs to put on in place of his wet clothes.
"Yeah," Gibbs said ruefully. "If I never see that inn again, it'll be too soon. I'd be tempted to leave our clothes and stuff behind, but my truck is still there too.
Ben chuckled. "I hear you."
Gibbs gut was telling him that checking on them wasn't the only thing bringing Ben by, if the folder he carried was any indication.
"Something else you wanted to talk about?" Gibbs asked, pointing at the folder.
Ben's demeanor sobered. "This is a transcript of Tom Donner's statement. I thought you might want to read it," he said, holding the folder toward Gibbs.
"What about Olivia Donner?" Gibbs asked as he took the folder.
A dark look passed over his features. "There won't be any statement from her."
Gibbs shot him a surprised look. "Why not?"
"Shortly after she was told Rhianne drowned, she had a stroke. She didn't make it," Ben said, sounding like he wasn't altogether unhappy about her passing.
"And Tom?"
"Sitting in a holding cell," Ben replied. "We'll need Tony's statement when he's up to it, but we have enough to proceed without it. We have the murder weapon; Rhianne dropped it in the boat. Tom's statement is a full confession of his role in covering up Rory's murder. Arraignment is later today, when the circuit judge arrives," Ben said. "Thanks to you two, Rory is finally getting justice for what they did to him. There's just one thing left…"
"What's that?"
"Rory will be buried tomorrow," Ben said. He paused uncertainly before continuing. "There will be a small service with my family and a few people still around that knew him well. I thought, in light of recent events, you might like to come. If you'd rather not stay at the inn, I have a guest bedroom you're welcome to use tonight."
"I think we'd like that. Correction…I know Tony would."
"Good," Ben said. "Let me know when you're ready to leave and I'll arrange to drive you out to the inn to get your truck and things."
NNNNNNNN
Gibbs heard a rustle from the bed next to him and looked up from his reading to see bright green eyes watching him intently. He breathed a small sigh of relief at seeing Tony awake and it appeared; finally alert enough to have a conversation.
"Hey you," he greeted with an affectionate smile. "Finally done sleeping?"
"I think so," Tony answered, yawning widely.
He stood and leaned over Tony, drinking in the sight of him while running fingers lovingly through his hair. Tony hummed in appreciation, and then a glint of mischief appeared in his eyes. After the stress, drama, and danger of the last couple of days, it did his heart good to see it.
Tony hooked a finger in the neck opening of Gibbs' scrub top and tugged him closer.
"C'mere." He tugged Gibbs down until their noses brushed, and then he tilted his face up and stole a small kiss.
"Love you," he whispered against Gibbs' lips.
"Love you too. I almost lost the chance to ever tell you that again," he whispered back, throat tightening with emotion. He leaned down and kissed Tony again, lips moving with gentle, but insistent pressure. The kiss deepened and tongues danced briefly. The passion that always simmered just below the surface between them rose, and Tony groaned softly.
"Don't start something I can't finish," Tony teased a little breathlessly as Gibbs ended the kiss.
Gibbs laughed and pulled slowly away. "It'll keep."
Tony stretched and tried not to wince at the pull on his cracked ribs. "Can we get out of here?"
"Soon as you're ready," Gibbs confirmed.
"You going to tell me what that says?" Tony asked, with a pointed look at the folder.
"Planned to."
Tony wrinkled his nose. "Just the condensed version, please."
Gibbs sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. "According to Tom, Rhianne was always a little manic depressive, going back to when she was a pre-teen, and it was a struggle to get her on the right meds, and keep her taking them."
"Bipolar," Tony mused.
"Yes, these days that's what the diagnosis would be," Gibbs agreed. "While it was a medieval way to deal with her, it explains the lock on her doors and the sedatives they fed her when she acted out. Considering they knew she had the potential to be homicidal, they were probably scared of her."
"They were right to be," Tony scowled. "Did Tom say anything about what happened to their parents?"
"He says they never suspected her of any involvement in their deaths," Gibbs replied. "Could be lying," he shrugged.
"Definitely lying," Tony said angrily.
"So rewind a few years," Gibbs began, "she's developed an obsession with Ben, and was oblivious of the nature of his relationship with Rory. Apparently, she had a habit of following him around, mooning over him."
"Let me guess; she figured it out and wasn't happy," Tony surmised.
"Got it in one. To make matters worse, she had Tom and Olivia filling her head with homophobic bullshit that she didn't connect to Ben and Rory until she spied on them having an intimate encounter in the boathouse that morning. She snapped, and not long after Ben left, she came out of hiding. You know what happened next."
Tony clenched his eyes closed as flashes of the shared vision with Rory came back to him.
A warm hand on his pulled him from the flashback. "Hey…don't go back there."
Tony opened his eyes and nodded. He took a deep breath, ignoring the twinge of pain from his chest. "What happened next? Why did they hide it?" he asked plaintively.
"There was a hell of a storm that morning and Tom went looking for Rhianne when he noticed she'd disappeared. He found her in the boathouse, covered in blood and standing over Rory's body in a fugue state, the knife she used on the floor next to her," Gibbs said.
"Tom knew his father would be devastated by Rory's death," he continued, "but felt staging an accident was better than everyone learning what really happened. He knew about the mine shaft, since it was on their property. Using the storm as cover, he took Rory's body there and dropped him in, set the kayak adrift on the lake, then came back and cleaned the scene. Olivia backed him on the accident story."
"And Rhianne?"
"She really did seem to suffer a psychotic break after what she'd done. She became almost completely mute, and projected the mental acuity of a small child."
"She faked it," Tony disputed. "For twenty-five years she fooled them, and everyone else."
"That's what it looks like. She almost certainly had another break when we showed up and she got a look at you. She had Olivia egging her on with the evil doppelganger theory, and that's when she decided to borrow Tom's jacket and shoot at us. Or more accurately, you. Then later, acting to throw suspicion on Tom with the bracelet and making it look like he'd done everything, including the murder itself."
Tony frowned and looked down. He sat quietly, absorbing Tom's version of events.
Gibbs could see Tony's internal struggle with the idea that Tom and Olivia sheltered Rhianne for so many years. When Tony had finally been settled in his room last night, he'd been awake briefly before succumbing to exhaustion from his ordeal. His skin crawled as he remembered Tony relaying the details of his confrontation with Rhianne. She wasn't manic; she was insane. He thought back to those long seconds underwater, Rory freeing Tony and holding Rhianne down. "I think in the end, she got what she deserved."
Tony looked up sharply. "It never should have gone that far. It all should have stopped with Rory."
"It should have," Gibbs agreed. "Tom didn't want to have his parents lose their remaining children to jail or a mental institution. He was convinced the truth would destroy their family."
"The lies did that too," Tony said curtly. "It just took a little longer."
Gibbs couldn't dispute that.