October 4, 2005: Another chapter, folks. I hope it doesn't disappoint. I'm running with the story a bit with no idea how long it will take to tell.
As with previous chapters, this has not been Betaed for continuity within 'NCIS' lore et cetera, therefore any errors are my own darn fault.
I do not own these characters but I don't think anyone will mind if I play with them a bit. :)
Many thanks to those of you who have rediscovered this story and have encouraged me to continue.
October 26, 2005: Finally going to try to post it now…Enjoy!
Tin Star
Chapter Three
By lilmouse
"People gotta talk themselves into law and order before they do anything about it. Maybe because down deep they don't care. They just don't care."
- Martin Howe (Lon Chaney Jr.), 'High Noon', 1952
"Good morning, Mr. Dinozzo. And how was our cereal today?"
He knows she means well but the condescending tone grates on his skin like a physical irritant. He knows she is a constant to his day, a reminder that he's made it through another night and he's grateful to her, in an odd sort of way. He also knows he won't win an award for Best Patient any time soon, so he smiles and hands her the tray. At least the IV unit is no longer required. He doesn't feel like someone dependent on the hospital for life support, unlike the unfortunate victims in the 1978 movie adaptation of Michael Crichton's book, 'Coma'. Being kept alive so his body can serve as a silent, unwilling organ donor. Trapped.
His life hanging by a wire…"It was great, Della."
He really hates hospitals.
Della beams. She genuinely takes pride in the food prepared by the hospital kitchen, though he isn't certain why. No culinary prizes pending there. He eats it because he needs to refuel and rebuild and he isn't getting out of here until the doctor sees a marked improvement. He doesn't eat everything, though.
By the end of his second week, he decides that he'll never know exactly what the yellow item in the sealed, plastic cup is, and it returns to the kitchen every time, untouched.
"You have a good appetite," Della observes and takes the tray, blushing slightly under the impact of 'Dinozzo Smile #42'. They aren't flirting and they both know it. There was a guy Tony knew in high school who had an aunt that made crocheted tea cosies and always tried to feed him when he came to visit. Della the Kitchen Queen reminds him of that woman. They banter and it does no harm.
His breakfast is followed by a shower, which he is blissfully allowed to do by himself now. Physical traces of his injuries remain but eventually the deepest of them will be nothing more than a faint, pale scar if you know where to look. The hospital gown was dispensed with as soon as possible and he wears track pants and a t-shirt. A fleece NCIS jacket with a hood keeps the chill in the hall from seeping into his soul. Why is it hospitals are kept so cold?
Physiotherapy is next, two floors down, third door on the right. He has stretches and weights, all carefully monitored by two different female therapists who tag team his recovery. One of them is an attractive blonde named Tammy. She doesn't step over the sexual boundaries of her professional relationship with Tony but definitely flirts with him. Lightly, like a breeze, just casual fun.
Special Agent Tony Dinozzo isn't interested in playing the game right now, even if there is no serious intent. He hurts, inside and out, and his focus is on feeling the sharp edges of discharge papers in his fist as he leaves the hospital.
And that day had better be soon…It isn't Tammy today but Carla, a young brunette with a fresh face and large brown eyes. She smiles and reviews his last session. He groans inwardly and tries not to look at her, hoping she doesn't think he's being rude. At least she doesn't flirt with him.
Although her hair is shorter, she could pass for Caitlin Todd at a distance.
He chews on his bottom lip and responds in the right places then gets on the mat and does his stretches and leg lifts. All strengthening for his thighs, his back, his -
"Did you know one of the bullets went into your butt?"
"I did not know that."
God, how I miss you…"How do you feel today, Dinozzo?"
He finishes his last pelvic tilt and lifts his head. From this position he sees Gibbs sitting on a chair just inside the doorway.
"Been there long, boss?"
"Long enough to know you're moving better than you were."
Tony smiles tightly. "Could you please tell the doctor that? Then I can return to being a productive member of society."
An eyebrow rises. "Bored, Dinozzo?"
"I just want to get back at it."
"When they say you're ready."
"I'm ready now." Tony focuses on rolling onto his stomach and pushing himself up by his arms, arching his back from a position akin to yoga's "Low Cobra' to 'Upward-facing Dog'. The stretch for his lower back is amazing and he does his best to relax into it.
He misses the look Gibbs silently sends to Carla. She shakes her head slightly and mouths one word: "Soon."
"Feel like a visitor?"
Tony breathes out and lowers his upper body to the mat. "Not really." He pushes himself up again for another stretch.
Gibbs stands and turns towards the door. "You don't even know who it is."
"I don't care who it is."
"You should care, Dinozzo."
Tony closes his eyes and barely manages to control the tone of his voice as he lowers himself to the mat before pushing up again.
"Are you here just to torment me, boss? Probie not a big enough target?"
He wonders about the wisdom of his words even as he's speaking them. He needs this job. Employment is an important factor for the continued quality of his wardrobe, the renewal of his gym membership.
His apartment. He doesn't know why he's so edgy today. Maybe it was breakfast.
"So what's it going to be, Dinozzo?"
"Abby's already been by with her tin of cookies."
He thinks of the chocolate nut blobs in his room and wonders if he'll be bold enough to try one.
"Did I say it was Abby?"
Tony rolls onto his side and sits up, smiling tightly. "No, but I understand everyone else is doing double time to keep on top of the latest case."
"They are."
The two men make eye contact. Both of them think they know what the other one is thinking. One of them is right.
Gibbs nods to someone in the hallway.
A woman with a badge around her neck and a wardrobe that says Wal-Mart moves into view. Beside her, the face of a seven-year-old angel looks hesitantly into the room.
Tony wonders how much of a jerk his boss thinks he is but knows he is his own, harshest critic. He finds a smile for little Katie Garvey. It isn't his biggest smile or his best but he's trying.
"Hey there," he says and her eyes sparkle. She looks up at the woman, then at Carla, then Gibbs before taking a few steps into the room.
"Hey."
She stands there, uncertain what to do next. She's wearing a Dora the Explorer t-shirt and blue jeans today instead of a Barbie dress, and her jeans have pink flowers embroidered on them. Tony notes that her sneakers light up whenever she takes a step.
Tony pats the mat beside him. "You can sit here, if you like," he says, reminding himself that his Dinozzo charm doesn't usually work unless they're over the age of eighteen.
Katie grins. She seems to be the exception to a rule about kids Tony doesn't even remember creating. It's just… always been the rule. He and kids don't seem to gel. He studies the little girl and wonders if she looks like her mother, but the clearest images he has of Lieutenant Helen Garvey are from the murder scene. He took the pictures himself. To say that they don't do the woman justice would be an understatement. The killers were cruel and vengeful and Helen did not go quietly into the night.
He dismisses the image of her disfigured face and focuses on her daughter.
She shuffles across the linoleum to sit cross-legged on the blue mat and they smile at one another. They fit neatly, side by side.
"We could be on an island," she declares.
"Yes, we could." Tony looks at the other adults then returns his gaze to her. "I guess they'd be in the water, then."
"Yep."
"So," Tony begins, wanting to reassure himself that she's alright. "How're you doing?"
She shrugs and an expression slides over her face so quickly he nearly misses it. "Oh, you know. I'm okay, I guess." She plays with a lose thread on one of the embroidered flowers. "I have a new bike."
He swallows and tries not to scare her by staring too hard. He recognizes what she's doing because he was like that at her age, dodging even the lightest of questions, keeping a cool exterior, hiding the pain.
Changing the topic…They don't share a similar background but they do have the same evasive habits.
Idly he wonders if that's why they seem to have connected.
"Biking is good," he says, uncertain how to continue. The tension in the air is building and it's coming from Gibbs and the woman, though you wouldn't know it to look at his boss. The Wal-Mart Woman is another matter entirely; her expression is fixed and strained, as if she's expecting someone to shout at her. Tony leans slightly to his left, on the pretence of whispering something to Katie and looks passed the woman. "I have a bike, too, but I don't ride it much," he tells the little girl and decides the two suits waiting outside are agents trying, unsuccessfully to his eye, to look like civilians. He can tell they're armed, too.
"Are you okay?"
Katie's question draws him back to where they sit on the mat; just chatting like there isn't anything important to do and guns aren't a part of their lives at all.
"I'm better now."
She nods, her expression wiser than her years. I don't believe you, it says. "Good." Then she leans over and tries to hug his left side. He hesitates then shifts, ignoring the others in the room, and gives her a proper hug in return. They stay like that for almost a minute. Tony can see the large clock on the wall across from him and watches the second hand tick one full cycle before she pulls back.
"I was scared," she whispers.
Tony finds his hand smoothing her hair and wonders where this comforting move comes from. Instinct, he supposes. "So was I," he replies softly.
Katie glances at the woman then says, "I have to go now."
They stand together and her hand slips into Tony's as they walk over to the nervous woman. He stops in front of her and looks down, as someone with his height often does, and tries to find the threads of the situation in her face.
She smiles and blushes a bit, looking from him to Gibbs and back again. Fear and curiosity: Interesting mix. "I'm Marcie- "
"Marcie Mitchell, her social worker," Tony concludes, overlapping her introduction. She looks puzzled so he decides to help her out. "You're wearing a badge," he states, reaching for the plastic resting against her chest and tracing a finger over her name and status. She blushes harder. He sighs. He isn't even trying and the hospital, under armed guard, isn't exactly a cocktail party but Marcie is reacting to him, nonetheless.
"You're the agent who saved Katie?"
"Dinozzo took the bullets for her," Gibbs says, surprising Tony by saying anything at all. Maybe he's trying to get a point across here…
He takes the woman's hand and places Katie's much smaller one into it.
"Take care of her." Or else is unsaid but clearly understood. The look of fear increases but it isn't really fear of him. It's fear of what hasn't happened yet.
He looks over at Gibbs. Unreadable. He looks at Katie Garvey. "Watch you don't fall off that bike," he says, trying to sound casual and encouraging.
"I won't fall," she assures him and waves as the woman directs her back into the hall. The two agents close in behind them.
"What the hell is going on, Gibbs?"
Carla makes a show of looking at her wristwatch and says, "I'm just going to run for coffee. Be right back." With a quick smile, she's out the door.
"We haven't got him yet."
"Got who yet? McGee said you'd caught two of the guys at the farm- "
"And killed the third- "
"Like he gave you a choice- "
"When was McGee here?"
Tony shakes his head, not wanting to get distracted from the topic. "He wasn't here, he called, okay?"
Gibbs moves closer to Tony and says quietly, "They were hired help, Dinozzo. They didn't plan the attack and they held her down while someone else did the torturing."
Tony frowns as the information clicks into place. "None of them were her brother."
"The bullet to your skull doesn't seem to have done your thinking much damage. We're building the case but Katie witnessed her uncle doing the actual killing, heard and remembered some of what he was yelling at Lieutenant Garvey while she hid in a closet and watched through a louvered door." His volume increases during that sentence. Tony knows Gibbs isn't angry with him but with the situation and the nightmare a little girl has had to endure.
"Any leads on the brother?"
Gibbs sighs and paces towards the wall with the clock and back again as he speaks. "If there are any witnesses to his arrival or departure from the house or anyone who can smash the alibis he was giving us three weeks ago before it all went to hell, they aren't finding their civic duty a very strong pull."
"And if anyone knows where he is- "
"They're keeping it to themselves."
That always made Tony angry. When he'd been a cop in Homicide, the gawkers at a scene annoyed him and any who might have been witnesses to the crime often didn't want to get involved. They didn't care, it was someone else's problem, anything they said wouldn't revive the dead so what was the point?
His hands balled into fists and he wished he had something to punch.
Preferably the smug face of Robert Joseph Garvey.
