Gibbs strode into the darkened room, his eyes narrowing as he studied the image on the main screen. It appeared to be a live stream showing the outside of several warehouses. Small black clad figures flitted from shadow to shadow, hugging the contours of whatever they could use for cover as they moved forwards in short bursts.
He moved across to the vacant seat next to director Morrow, the man was studying the screen intently and made no acknowledgement of Gibbs' arrival. Gibbs sat and turned his own attention to the screen.
It was a full minute before Morrow spoke. "New training scenario," he stated with a slight nod toward the screen. We're working with the SWAT units in San Diego to see what we can learn from each other."
"San Diego?" Gibbs questioned. "Has California PD been doing some new cutting edge training that I was unaware of?"
"It was a lot easier getting people to volunteer to go there in February than it was getting them to go up to Boston," Morrow delivered sardonically, not that it wasn't the truth. "And I think it does us good to look at how other agencies operate once in a while. We are all, theoretically, on the same side."
Gibbs nodded, wincing slightly as a stun grenade took down one of the agents on the screen. "Us or them?" he asked.
Morrow allowed a small smile. "I think we may be playing dirty."
There was silence again as both men continued to watch the staged hostage situation play out on the screen for a little longer.
"How is he?" Morrow asked, still not looking at Gibbs.
Gibbs felt his insides clench at the question, he let out a short sigh. "Still touch and go. He's holding his own but it's a waiting game."
Morrow nodded, the gesture was partially redundant, the two men rarely looked at each other. There was no need, they held ultimate respect, each for the other, recognising and understanding how the other thought. It was a meeting of equals that should have been skewed by the difference in rank, but it was somehow irrelevant, as were the social niceties of normal conversation. Eye contact was unnecessary, dangerous, as it may release emotion that would change their carefully balanced relationship.
Gibbs felt the nod; there was a little more silence.
"I received a complaint," Morrow stated matter-of-factly. "The Deputy secretary insists that I discipline you." He paused for a moment. "You really succeeded in pissing her off, which is quite impressive since you never actually spoke to her."
Gibbs smiled, cocking his head sideways slightly. "Yes, well I'd like to think I train my team well."
"Of course I'm not sure what pissed her off more, the fact that you told her what to do, or the fact that you successfully recovered all of the stolen property, eliminated both of the suspects and apprehended the buyer." It was Morrow's turn to allow a slight smile. "Even she had to recognise that there wasn't going to be any reprimand after that." He paused for a moment. "Not that I encourage insubordinate behaviour in any of my agents you understand?"
"Of course not Sir." Gibbs own smile was slightly crooked.
"Good, as long as that's understood." There was a great deal of understanding that passed between the two men and very little of it bore any relation to the words that they spoke, but if they were ever asked then they could truthfully repeat conversations without inviting any repercussions. It was all part of a very complex game whose rules were understood implicitly by everyone who played, and it was the only game where every player maintained plausible deniability that they ever willingly took part.
Both men turned their attention back to the screen, wincing as another two of the SWAT operatives hit the floor; they had apparently run into a rope, which suddenly appeared at chest height across their path.
"So, who's supposed to be doing the learning here?" Gibbs asked.
Morrow shook his head. "Dammit, I told Gibson to play fair." There was a slight pause. "He's like you, never could stand to lose."
Somehow everything was hitting Gibbs at a tangent. The comment, under normal circumstances, would have elicited a smile and a 'there's nothing wrong with always being on the winning side' from Gibbs, but not today. Today the word 'lose' had only one association that his mind was prepared to allow him to entertain. He might lose Tony.
Morrow sensed the shift, the unusual reaction to his words. He glanced across at Gibbs, for most people the man was an enigma, his reactions unpredictable, but that had never been the case for him, up until this point he could have written out their interactions before they happened. Gibbs dealt with authority in a certain way; reacted in a certain way, normally Morrow had those reactions pegged. You didn't get to his position without being an expert at reading people. He read Gibbs now, the concern etched in every fibre of the man's being, despite his attempts to cover it. He had always known that Gibbs cared about the agents in his team, had a better team ethic going than any other agent in the service, but he hadn't until this moment realised just how deep that bond went. If agent Dinozzo died then he'd be losing more than just a good field agent. He'd be losing part of Gibbs as well. He looked back up at the screen, aware that an uncharacteristic close scrutiny could push the conversation to a place that neither man could afford to go.
"When you go out to the hospital you can pass on my congratulations to Special Agent Dinozzzo on a job well done," he stated quietly, trying to instil confidence into his words.
"I will Sir," Gibbs replied, inwardly shaking his head at the futility of the comment if what he suspected about Tony's mental state were true, but making no outward sign of it. He could read Morrow just as well as Morrow could read him, and he knew that his superior now understood some of the situation. He looked back up at the screen, gaining a new sense of determination because the only alternative was despair. "And you're right, I am always on the winning team."
NCISNCIS
Tony felt the hot muzzle flash, felt the bomb go off that exploded his mind into a thousand tiny fragments, heard himself scream the name of the man he had just killed, his whole body jerked convulsively as he raised up. His eyes opened onto a completely incongruous set of images as blurred shapes came into focus; his disorientation complete as jumbled images from his memory mixed with reality, interspersed with an awareness of other sensations; the pain from his neck, a gentle pressure on his chest, soft soothing tones that slowly morphed into words.
"Tony, it's OK, take it easy you're safe, you're in hospital, just take it easy."
"Kate?" He relaxed back and soft fluffy clouds moved to meet him. No, not clouds pillows, he was on a bed, in a hospital room and Kate was there, and she said he was safe. It was good to be safe, nice to be safe, floating away. . .
Kate let out a sigh as she watched him drift under again, simultaneously disappointed and relieved. She wanted him awake, wanted. . . no, needed to talk to him, another small step in the reassurance that he would survive this, would recover. But equally she couldn't stand to see him in so much pain, physical and emotional.
She waited until he settled fully before sinking back into the seat beside him. At least this time he had recognised her, up until now he had always surfaced just enough to take some nightmare world as his reality, and Kate had been shaken by the terror in his expression. She wasn't sure what out of the last few hours had been worse, watching him lie there inanimate, drifting on the edge of life in a pale stillness, or watching now as he recovered a little of his strength, awakening to disorienting nightmares.
The quiet had allowed her time to contemplate, to study, every mark, every bruise on his battered body. The small cut on his forehead from the bus crash, the purple line that ran across his chest from the seatbelt of the SUV crash, the bandages around his wrist from where the cuffs had rubbed the skin away. Then there were the many other bruises dotted across his arms and torso, from the crashes? from a fall?. Whatever, he'd clearly had a tough time of it, and given how it had almost ended. . . she'd cut off the thought before it could elicit any tears, not that that lasted, not past the first waking nightmare. The tears had flowed freely then, as she'd tried to calm him down, tried to help banish the demons that haunted his expression. They'd flowed until he settled again, until the adrenaline cut out and she'd sunk back into the chair returning to her contemplation.
His injuries couldn't explain any of this; he'd been hurt before, he'd had to shoot people before, he'd had to kill in self-defence, so what was different this time? However much she considered it, she couldn't explain his reactions now; she couldn't explain his reactions in the car. She stared into his face, something had happened to him that had triggered emotion at a level she had never seen, not even in herself, never mind in Tony, a level that exposed his vulnerabilities. She drew in a sharp breath as she realised for the first time that she was stronger than him, emotionally much stronger. She stared at him again, as she finally reached the conclusion that Gibbs had drawn within a minute of seeing Tony in the car, something had penetrated through the façade of strength that Anthony Dinozzo presented to the world and there was a chance that it could destroy him.
"Fight it Tony," she whispered to him. "You have to fight it."
NCISNCIS
Kate stood on the corridor waiting, she had to leave each time a nurse or a doctor came to examine him. As ever her thoughts drifted elsewhere, reliving different pats of the last twenty-four hours, analysing every stage to see if there was anything they could have done differently. Nonetheless she moved across as soon as Dr. Preston emerged from the room, her stomach flitting with tiny butterflies as it had each time as she waited for updates on his condition, each time she had been disappointed, but not this time, Dr Preston's demeanour gave away the fact that the news was more positive before she spoke.
"He's doing much better," the Doctor stated with a smile, "I'm going to upgrade his condition from critical to serious. He'll still need careful monitoring over the next few hours but I think he's turned the corner. He has a good chance for a full recovery."
Kate allowed a deep breath to escape; it wasn't quite a sigh, as she felt the relief slide through her system, long tensed muscles relaxing slightly.
Dr Preston glanced back into the room. "Of course I'm a little concerned that he hasn't regained consciousness. The sedatives should be out of his system by now and we should be seeing a little more awareness."
Kate followed her gaze. "He wasn't making much sense when we found him," she stated. "I think whatever he went through was pretty traumatic."
The Doctor nodded. "I know, he was very agitated down in trauma and I've seen some of the nightmares, he's been having." She turned her gaze back to Kate. "You seem to have a settling influence on him that's why I instructed the nurses to let you stay."
Kate stared for a moment, Dr Preston's earlier words coming back to her 'just a few minutes' had been the instruction and that had been about three hours ago. "I. . ." she began, uncertain of what to say, but a look into the doctor's eyes told her that she didn't need to say anything other than. "Thank you."
"I don't suppose there's any chance that I can persuade you to go home now and get some rest yourself. You look dead on your feet?"
Kate shook her head. "There should be someone there when he wakes up," she stated. 'He's going to need them' the unverbalised thought completed.
Dr. Preston looked into the room once more. "He's lucky to have friends like you."
The comment elicited an uncharacteristically bitter response as dark tendrils of guilt pulled at Kate's thoughts. Yeah, Tony was real lucky; his 'friends' and colleagues chained him to a serial killer and then left him alone for best part of a day without backup so that he ended up with his throat slit. Then just for good measure they left him to bleed for a while to minimise his chances of survival, yeah, real good friends: the sort of friends that made enemies redundant.
"Agent Todd"
"Agent Todd," the second time the name was spoken with more urgency and Kate's focus was jerked back.
"I'm sorry I must have drifted off for a minute," Kate stated, giving her head a slight shake. "You were saying?"
"You said you wanted to be here when he woke up," Dr. Preston stated, her head turning to look through the open doorway once more. "So I think we'd both better get back in the room."
Kate followed the Doctor's gaze to where Tony's open eyes met hers.