When Tony woke up, he was lying on a gurney in the back of an ambulance. Someone was holding an ice pack to his head.
"Tony? Are you awake? Tony?"
Tony looked up and saw McGee looking down at him, with a worried expression on his face.
"Nice shooting, Probie," Tony said, with a grin. Then his expression turned frantic. "Where's Jess?" he demanded, sitting up way too fast for a guy with a concussion. His forward motion was stopped by McGee's hands on his shoulders.
"On her way to the hospital," McGee said, as he tried to get Tony to lie back down. "Gibbs put her in an ambulance."
"How is she?" Tony demanded, clearly not satisfied with McGee's summary. Gibbs' face came into view.
"She's doing okay," he said. "She had a pretty decent gash on her leg and maybe a dislocated shoulder, but she's okay. She was conscious when they left. Kept telling us not to make fun of you for quoting 'Lethal Weapon 3'." He grinned.
Tony groaned and fell back onto the gurney, covering his face with the pillow.
"McGee," Gibbs said, getting back to business, "you and Ziva start processing the scene and wait for Ducky to come and collect Trey's body. I'm going to ride back with Tony." McGee nodded and started to make his way out of the ambulance. "And call Abby," Gibbs added. "She'll be worried."
"On it, Boss," McGee said, as he pulled out his phone and went to join Ziva.
Gibbs sat next to Tony and handed him the icepack, which Tony put on his head, still hidden under the pillow. The medics closed the ambulance doors, and they all headed to the hospital.
NCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS
It took 45 minutes for Tony to be examined and cleared to go home. He had some bruises, a minor concussion, and a twisted knee, but nothing major. Gibbs made multiple trips back and forth between Tony's treatment room and the nurse's station, trying to keep up with both Tony's injuries and Jess' condition. Finally, Tony was released – with a wrapped knee, a bottle of meds and orders not to drive – and both men headed to the waiting room.
A nurse approached. "Excuse me," she said, looking at Tony. "Mr. DiNozzo?"
"Yes?" Tony turned to her, expectantly.
"I need you to sign some papers, please."
Tony looked down at the clipboard she was holding. "What are these?" he asked.
"When we admitted Miss Kennedy," the nurse began, "we called her emergency contact numbers. One of them was for an attorney under the employ of Anthony DiNozzo Sr." She referred to the clipboard she was holding. "The attorney instructed that we should bill any of Miss Kennedy's charges, as well as any treatment you might need – and he seemed reasonably certain that you would require some sort of treatment – to Mr. DiNozzo's business manager. He said that you could sign any paperwork that was required."
Gibbs looked at Tony, unable, once again, to hide his surprise at the actions of Tony's father.
Tony gave an embarrassed laugh. "The old man is full of surprises," he said, and signed the documents. Once that was done, there was nothing left to do but wait.
Gibbs sat, silently, in the waiting room, holding a cup of what was supposed to be coffee, but what he suspected was simply brown water that the vending machine company dispensed to placate anxious next of kin. Tony was a bundle of nervous energy – standing, sitting, drumming on tables, pacing in front of the window.
"DiNozzo!" Gibbs said, more sharply than he'd intended. "Sit down. You're making me crazy."
Tony stopped and looked apologetically at his boss. "Sorry, Boss," he said. "I can't help it." He dropped into a chair.
"I know," Gibbs said, gently. He looked at Tony and reminded himself that it wasn't that long ago that his senior field agent was unconscious.
"You okay?" Gibbs asked. "You need anything?"
"No, I'm good," Tony said. "I've got a headache, and I'll be sore in the morning, but I'm good."
"Where are your clothes?" Gibbs asked, just now noticing that Tony was wearing scrubs and a sweatshirt, not the clothes he had on when he was brought in.
Tony looked down at himself. "Oh," he said, clearly not realizing right away that something was different. "My stuff was covered in slivers and sawdust from the ceiling – it was itching like hell. I borrowed these from one of the doctors."
Gibbs acknowledged the explanation.
"Honestly, Boss," Tony continued, absently. "I don't know how you stand it, in that basement of yours." Gibbs smiled.
Another minute ticked by. The minute hand on the clock clicked.
"How'd you two meet?" Gibbs asked suddenly, hoping to distract them both for a moment.
"Me and Jess?" Tony said. "Her family moved in next to mine in Connecticut. I was nine years old." He smiled with the memory. "I was standing in the yard watching the movers unload the truck, and a car pulled up. I wasn't allowed outside the yard, and it was definitely not permitted to introduce oneself to strangers. But I was watching everything that came off that truck, hoping I'd see toys or bikes or anything that would indicate kids lived there."
A doctor walked up, and Tony stopped, waiting to see if it was news about Jess. The doctor kept walking.
"So, this car pulled up," Tony continued, "and this little girl got out. She walked up to me, stuck out her hand and said, 'hello, my name is Jessica Elizabeth Kennedy and I'm moving in next door.' I shook her hand and said, 'hello, my name is Anthony Michael DiNozzo, and I've lived here all my life.' She looked at me and said, 'we're going to be best friends forever', and we were, just like that."
Gibbs chuckled. "I can see her doing that." Tony smiled. "I'll bet you were both, as they say, a handful," Gibbs said.
"Oh yeah."
Another doctor walked up, and Gibbs recognized him as the one who had been going in and out of Jess' treatment room earlier. He stood up, and Tony followed his lead. The two of them were standing nearly shoulder-to-shoulder as the doctor approached.
The doctor put his hands up in a calming gesture. "She's going to be fine," he began, even before he was all the way into the waiting room. "She's got a lot of bruises, and she lost a fair amount of blood, but nothing was in any way life-threatening. We had to put about a dozen stitches in her leg, but there shouldn't be any complications. She'll be here for two days, maybe. And between the injuries on her leg and her feet, it'll be a week or so before it doesn't hurt to walk. But she'll be fine."
"Did you see any …" Tony began. He stopped and tried again. "I mean, did you have any reason to believe …" Finally, he just said it. "Did you do a rape kit?"
The doctor smiled compassionately. "No," he said. "There wasn't any reason to. There were no injuries consistent with that type of trauma."
Tony released the breath he'd been holding. Gibbs put a hand on Tony's back to steady him.
Then, in response to what was obviously the next question, "We had to sedate her to clean out her leg and set her shoulder. She's not awake yet, but you can sit with her if you want," the doctor said. "I'll have a nurse take you upstairs."
"Thank you, doctor," Gibbs said.
The doctor turned to go and then turned back around to look at them both. "One more thing," he said. "We noticed that she has a lot of scars – is there anything else we should know about?"
"No," Tony said, with a light laugh. "We were just daredevils as kids." The doctor raised an eyebrow, and Tony quickly moved to reassure him. "Seriously," Tony said. "I have just as many, and in a lot of the same places. I know how she got every single one of them." His mind flashed back to a couple of days before. "Except for one … there's one I don't know," he said. "But the rest of them are totally innocent. I promise."
The doctor regarded Tony's earnest expression and considered the explanation before deciding it was a truthful one. "OK," he said. "I just had to ask."
He motioned to a nurse, who came to escort Gibbs and Tony.
"I hope you're not keeping track," the doctor said. Tony and Gibbs looked at him, quizzically. "Of who's got more scars," the doctor explained. He looked at Tony and continued, "Because she's going to have a doozy once that leg heals."
Gibbs could have sworn he heard Tony curse under his breath as they headed upstairs.
