Gibbs took solace in the late night silence that reigned once the junior members of his team left the hospital for home. He drained the last of his coffee and tossed the cup in the trash, hoping Ducky would be returning soon. He looked forward to both the promised refill and an update on Tony's CT scan and blood test results. Tony hadn't fully awoken since they'd found him nearly twelve hours ago, except for a few brief periods when he'd been semi-conscious, but each time he'd awoken agitated and not very lucid.
Gibbs had been worried, far more than the other two times Tony disappeared during a case. The similarities were unsettling, but this time had been different in that they had no clue at first who had taken Tony, or why. They had no leads at all during that critical first twenty four hours, until Leigh Danford's car turned up a day later with Tony's badge and wallet inside.
Tony had figuratively taken a few years off Gibbs' life with this close call. Far too close. Being seconds too late to prevent the abduction itself was devastating enough, but when he and McGee had arrived at the warehouse just as shots were fired inside, he'd been almost certain they were seconds too late...again. That heart-stopping moment when they'd found Tony's bloodied and unmoving form on the warehouse floor would be seared into his memory for a long time to come.
Gibbs sat back in the chair and contented himself with continuing his vigil. He watched the rise and fall of Tony's chest, pondering his second's propensity for attracting the attention of serial killers, and once again ending up in harm's way as a result. What was this, three times now? It also wasn't the first time Tony had been drugged and imprisoned with rotting corpses nearby, and he hoped Tony would be coping with this latest brush with death better than Gibbs himself was.
As much as he tried to distance himself and resist letting his guard down, there had always been something about Tony that tugged at his long-buried paternal instincts. He'd struggled in the past with resenting Tony for making him care; for chipping away at his walls and the stoic facade he presented to keep anyone from getting too close. He'd projected that resentment to cover his own guilt and discomfort over Tony's narrow escapes from death. Tony had always been astute at reading Gibbs, and knew defense mechanisms when he saw them…after all, he employed them himself. With more patience than one would think he possessed, Tony worked his way through those too.
He wondered if Tony would remember how close it actually had been this time. Gibbs was pulled from his maudlin thoughts as the younger man began to shift restlessly, his head tossing back and forth. He mumbled something low and unintelligible and Gibbs' jaw clenched at the sound of pain and distress in his voice. Not for the first time tonight, he stood and leaned over to lay a soothing hand on Tony's forehead.
"Everything's alright, Tony," he whispered with a confidence he didn't entirely feel. Gibbs eyes flicked to the door as Ducky returned. The old doctor paused to watch, smiling in encouragement as he tried to settle Tony down. "We're here, Ducky and me." He brushed a wayward lock of brown hair off of Tony's forehead. "You can join us anytime now, ya know."
Tony responded to him subconsciously, calming after a few seconds, but remaining stubbornly asleep. Gibbs gave a resigned sigh as Ducky held out a large cup of coffee, which he accepted with a grateful nod before returning to the chair and his Tony-watching.
"What's the doc say?" Gibbs asked.
"They aren't overly concerned yet," Ducky began. "His system is clearing of the drugs and while he's almost certainly concussed, there's no sign of intracranial swelling. The bullet graze was more messy than serious," he reported. "Anthony should recover fully."
"Any guesses as to how much he'll remember?"
"That would likely depend on which drugs were administered, and when. Aside from sedatives, GHB and Rohypnol were administered at some point during his captivity. As much as it may frustrate you to hear it, on that point, we must wait and see."
Gibbs nodded wearily, and scrubbed a hand over his tired eyes.
Ducky frowned as he observed his silent friend. "Are you still brooding, Jethro?"
Gibbs shrugged. The helpless impotence he'd felt as they fruitlessly searched for Tony hadn't entirely dissipated. "I'll feel better when he wakes up," he replied simply.
"There's no reason for you to feel guilty over what's happened. Anthony most certainly will not blame you."
"I'm the lead agent; he's my responsibility," Gibbs insisted.
"Anthony would argue that his safety is not solely your responsibility," Ducky pointed out.
Gibbs huffed. "Yes, he would. I can't help feeling guilty. If only I'd been faster, more situationally aware, hadn't let Tony work so far away from me." He knew his old friend was trying to help, so Gibbs shared the underlying source of his guilt and fear. "How many times does this have to happen before the outcome is him ending up on your table?"
Ducky knew Gibbs was referring to the other two times Tony disappeared on a case; both those cases sharing eerie resemblances to this situation.
"Jethro…" he started, but Gibbs shook his head.
"I know what you're going to say. I know the guilt I feel is irrational, but all three times we were two steps behind," Gibbs said. "In every case, Tony was left to fend for himself and I got there too late to make any difference. It was pure dumb luck that those two animals didn't kill and dump him somewhere straight away, and they were on their way to do just that when Tony got his call though to me." Gibbs paused as the scene in the warehouse flashed through his mind, and his mouth went dry. "I was too late to do anything all three times. A less capable agent would have been dead three times over."
Ducky nodded in empathy. "I understand your fears, but I would console you with this thought. Instead of dwelling on what could have happened and didn't, we should be thankful for the fact that Anthony is not a less capable agent."
~.~
Soft voices penetrated the fog Tony found himself floating in. Both were familiar; one with the barest trace of a Scottish lilt and the other rough, but caring. He had a sense of safe now but something else danced at the edges of his awareness. Something important that he couldn't quite remember, and that hole in his memory was distressing. Maybe the voices could help him sort that nagging sense of something missing.
A small movement caught Ducky's sharp eyes. He watched as Tony's eyelids fluttered and he shifted in the bed.
"I believe our young man might be about to join us finally, Jethro," he announced.
Gibbs stood and stepped close to Tony's bedside. He leaned close and laid a hand on Tony's shoulder, prepared to act if Tony awoke confused and agitated again.
Ducky nodded approvingly and took a place on Tony's opposite side.
"Come on, DiNozzo," Gibbs encouraged.
Tony cracked his eyes open and blinked to clear his blurry vision. He tensed and tried to make sense of his surroundings, the medicinal smell sinking in and telling him he was in a hospital.
Tony groaned in protest as the mother of all headaches made itself known. He called out for the one person he instinctively knew would be there waiting. "Gibbs?"
He relaxed a little as his vision cleared and Gibbs and Ducky swam into view.
"Anthony, how do you feel?" Ducky asked as Tony squinted up at them.
"Like crap," came the hoarse reply, the answer uncharacteristically honest.
"I'm not surprised." Ducky exchanged a fondly amused look with Gibbs. "Could you be more specific?"
Tony swallowed to try and moisten his desert-dry throat, and Gibbs saw the problem. He inserted a straw in the cup of water on Tony's beside table then held it to his lips. "Even with the IV, you're pretty dehydrated, Tony. Try this, it should help a little."
Tony sipped water and closed his eyes briefly in relief as the liquid soothed his dry mouth and throat.
"Head hurts," Tony told them once he was done drinking. "Side too."
"I'm not surprised; you have a concussion, Anthony." Ducky explained.
"Got a pretty deep bullet graze along your ribs," Gibbs added, gesturing at Tony's right side, where a bulky bandage was discernable under the hospital gown. "The rest is scrapes and bruises." Gibbs grinned and lightened the moment. "If you don't stop disappearing and getting your head dented, I'm going to let Abby implant that GPS tracker in you after all," Gibbs warned in jest.
"Not my fault," Tony mumbled as he relaxed into the pillow and closed his eyes. "No tracker," he protested. "With my luck, it will just make it easier for the bad guys to find me."
Gibbs gave Tony's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Right. On both counts," he grinned.
"Funny, Boss," Tony complained half-heartedly.
"You were also repeatedly drugged, Anthony, with a combination of Rohypnol and other sedatives. You may still be feeling those effects, but be assured they are metabolizing from your system quite quickly," Ducky explained. "All in all, you were quite fortunate."
"What happened?" Tony asked.
"We've got a pretty good picture of what happened from working the scene where we found you," Gibbs began. "But we need you to fill in the gaps and make a statement when you feel up to it."
Tony nodded in agreement then frowned; that elusive thing he'd been trying to remember was still just out of reach.
"I remember Georgetown, and The Den, then it gets a little vague after that," Tony trailed off, brow furrowed in concentration. "I went out the back door to look for something...cameras, I think. Someone followed me out, I remember being jumped. Then nothing."
"You were probably drugged straight away," Ducky speculated.
"Anything else?" Gibbs questioned, watching Tony intently.
Tony's eyes went unfocused and distant as he searched his memories. They were jumbled; unclear and disordered. A warehouse and Gibbs' voice, along with others. His heart sped up as he recalled gunshots. "Some things are coming back. I was in a warehouse?" Tony asked, looking up at Gibbs questioningly.
"Yeah," Gibbs exhaled in relief that Tony had at least some recall. It was a good sign. "Do you remember calling me?"
Ducky scowled over the bed at Gibbs. Let him get there on his own remained unspoken, but Gibbs' scant nod indicated he got the silent message.
Tony tried to sort and make sense of the disjointed memories coming back to him. A big building, abandoned and deteriorating. That elusive element he'd been trying to recall. Tony remembered an overpowering smell of death and then almost everything came crashing back all at once. He suddenly lurched upright in the bed and gasped, startling the older men.
The women…Leigh.
~.~
AN: This story is complete. If you've been following along, I hope you'll stay tuned! The concluding chapter will be posted tomorrow.