Deep Lacerations: Chapter 21

A/N: Finally! The much-awaited chapter with Tiva! Well, much awaited by me-ever since I wrote it, I've been counting down the days until it was time to post it. It's not really a hardcore Tiva chapter (come on...he's in intensive care with a concussion and hypothermia), but it's still more than CBS has been giving us.

NCIS Special Agent Tim McGee leaned against the side of the elevator as the doors slid closed, exhaling a long, tired breath. As if being sentenced to Cyber Crimes for three months wasn't bad enough (and was entirely his fault, but he chose not to dwell on that), he had received a frantic call from Abby about how horribly, horribly wrong the situation was. After getting her to calm down—never an easy feat under any circumstance—she had explained how the crime scene was a trap, how the suspect had fired at Tony and how he and Agent Gracy were currently in the ICU at Bethesda with hypothermia. The entire explanation didn't make much sense to him, but he went with it anyway. And then she tried to get him to run the evidence from the crime scene so she could go to the hospital to see them, but he put his foot down (which wasn't easy, seeing as he currently only had one functioning foot and a pair of crutches), and told her that she had to do her job and he would go to the hospital. She had pouted, and hit him, and when neither of those worked, sent him on his way with a laptop with the facial recognition software, telling him that if he got to see Tony, he should at least get some work done while he was there.

And all of that brought him to that elevator, taking him to the medical intensive care unit while wrestling with a pair of crutches and a laptop bag that kept slipping off his shoulder. As the doors slid open, he hitched up the bag, gripped the crutches, and made his way to the nurse's station. After some unexpected sympathy at his condition, he was redirected to the family waiting area, where he immediately saw Ziva sitting in a corner, looking as much like crap as Ziva David could—her dark hair had partially worked itself out of her usual crime scene braid and was hanging in knotted tangles, her eyes surrounded by dark circles, a forgotten cup of coffee in her hand as she stared at the wall, a haunted expression on her face. "Ziva?" McGee asked tentatively.

She snapped instantly to attention, as she had a tendency to do, relaxing when she registered the familiar face. "McGee," she replied.

He took a seat next to her, setting his crutches aside. "What happened?" he asked gently.

She shook her head slightly, her eyes down on the cup in her hands. "We were at the crime scene," she began, her voice dull. "We heard a gunshot. Tony was startled and fell off the dock into the harbor. I thought he had been shot." She brought the cup to her lips, still not meeting McGee's eye. He couldn't even tell if she was drinking it, or just using it as a prop to give herself a moment before continuing. "I could not see the gunman, but Gibbs could. He took off after him, and Agent Gracy dove in the harbor and brought Tony out. After they were stabilized at the local hospital, they were transferred here."

"Wow," he murmured, as much at Ziva's obvious despair as the circumstances of the day. Before he got a chance to comment, a doctor entered the room and headed toward them.

"Mrs. DiNozzo?" he asked. McGee's eyes widened in shock, but Ziva just shook her head.

"Ziva David," she corrected. "We are not married. I am his partner." Seeing the look on the doctor's face, she amended, "His work partner."

"Oh," the physician murmured. "Well, um, you're listed as his power of attorney while he's unconscious?"

"Yes," Ziva replied, not explaining. The doctor nodded slightly before continuing.

"I'm Commander Michael Watler, one of the Pulmonary/Critical Care attendings," he introduced. "I understand he's been seen by my colleague, Commander Pitt?"

Ziva nodded. "He had been infected with a genetically modified Y. pestis a few years ago."

"Yes, I see that," Watler murmured. "Well, he has some significant scarring in his lungs from that, which combined with the hypothermia and the water he inhaled, is making things rather complicated. I'd like to do a procedure called a bronchial-alveolar lavage, which is—"

"The doctors in Norfolk explained it," she interrupted.

"I just want to make sure you're aware of the risks and benefits of the procedure before getting your consent," he said, handing her the clipboard while he explained everything again. She nodded brusquely, giving the form a quick signature before Dr. Watler went on his way.

"Mrs. DiNozzo?" McGee asked lightly as Watler walked away.

She turned a glare in his direction. "If you breathe one word of that to Gibbs, I will show you in great detail what Mossad does to suspected Hamas agents."

He held up his hands defensively. "Right. I said nothing. Uh-heard nothing. At all."

The third time in five minutes that Agent Gracy yawned, Agent Gibbs was beginning to worry. "Are you okay?" he asked softly.

She nodded, ducking her head in attempts to cover up the yawn, as both hands were again bundled up under the blankets. "Fine," she finally said. "Hypothermia makes people yawn."

"Maybe we should let you get some sleep and continue this later?" Truth be told, his questioning of her like he would any other victim's wife wasn't getting them anywhere—Scott and Sonja Gracy had lived a fairly non-descript life. There were no jealous ex-lovers, no enemies, no skeletons in their closets. What she had said before, about their largest fight being about a dining room set, he had no problem believing.

She shook her head, barely stifling another yawn. She caught sight of the clock on the wall and froze. "Oh, no," she moaned. "It's Thursday, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

She groaned. "It's the nanny's evening off. She has a night class at the university. Someone has to go get the kids."

"I can do it," he volunteered. She gave him a quizzical look.

"You don't have to do that," she protested. "I can ask a schoolmate's mother to let them have a sleep-over tonight."

He shook his head. "We don't know for sure that this guy isn't after your family." He paused before adding, "He's already used your daughter as a pawn in his game once. I'm not going to let him do it again."

She studied him for half a second before nodding. "Okay." He nodded before rising, his car keys in hand. "And bring me a change of clothes for the morning!" she called out after him.

"Ms. David?" Ziva's eyes snapped open at the sound of the nurse's voice, not even realizing that she had drifted off until that moment. McGee had left some time before, saying something about facial recognition software and talking to Agent Gracy, and she had let the events of the day get the better of her. "Agent DiNozzo is back from his procedure, if you would like to see him."

"Yes, thank you," Ziva murmured.

"He's still unconscious," the nurse warned, "and he doesn't look all that great, but he has been extubated and he's breathing on his own." Officer David nodded at these words as she followed the nurse to DiNozzo's room, the adjoining room to Gracy as per Gibbs' request, separated by only a curtain and sheet of glass.

She stood just inside the open doorway, studying her partner. Despite the nurse's words, part of her had expected him to open his eyes and smirk, making some comment about catching her staring. Yet, she didn't need medical training to know that it would be a few hours before he'd be up to that. His face, the only exposed skin on his body, was still a shade of gray not unlike Ducky's cadavers. His brown hair was covered by a dark watch cap, his body easily twice its normal size with the inflatable Bair hugger and piles of blankets.

After a few minutes of staring, she finally approached, stroking his cheek gently with her hand, careful not to displace the oxygen tube running under his nose. "Hello, Tony," she said softly, not sure if he could hear her. "If you are trying to set a record for most stays in Bethesda, you are well on your way. They say three more, and they will name a room after you." Her smile was forced, trying to imagine his usual banter. "Oh, very funny, Ziva," she mocked, lowering her voice to imitate DiNozzo. "You are just jealous because I get a few days off and you have to deal with Gibbs alone." Switching back to her own voice, she replied. "Well, yes, that will be a problem, especially since Agent Gracy is in the room next to you. He is very concerned about her. I think you were right, Tony, about there being something between them." She stopped her faux-dialogue and sighed. On impulse, she leaned forward, gently pressing her lips to his forehead. "Get better, Tony," she commanded in a whisper, her face still inches from his. "I do not think I can not do this without you." She slid back in the chair, her fingers still resting on his cool jaw. She would sit there and wait for him to wake up, however long it took.