Deep Lacerations: Chapter 21

Agent Gibbs slowed his car to only twice the posted speed limit as he entered the residential development; not quite a gated community, but close. His eyebrows rose slightly at the well-designed townhouses lining the street as he searched for the right house number. Apparently, Army-physicians-turned-CID-agents made more money than he realized.

He finally found the right building and parked his car on the street, realizing as he headed to the doorway that it wasn't the same address as the one in the Scott Gracy CID file; Sonja must have moved the kids after his death. Not that he could blame her, considering the circumstances. This place was also closer to Ft. Belvoir--where CID headquarters were located--and the schools were good, so he had to admit that she had plenty of reasons to make the move.

After ringing the doorbell of the stylish townhouse, he noticed the small gold star in the living room window, bringing a sad smile to his face—it didn't take a military background to recognize the sign that a loved one had died in combat. Before he could dwell on that, the door opened a crack, stopped by the chain. "Hello?" a mousy-looking blond twenty-something asked. He guessed it was Angelika, the 'au pair'.

"Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS," he replied, flipping out his credentials for her to see. She studied them for a second before closing the door, opening it again without the chain.

"Artzin Gracy called to say to expect you," Angelika explained, her voice laced with a thick German accent. "She told me to open the door to you and only you." He nodded slightly, not wanting to explain—or demonstrate—that if he had really wanted to get in or do anybody inside harm, the chain would have done little to stop him.

"She said it was your evening off?" he asked, hoping that she would get the hint and get the kids ready to go with him to the hospital.

As if on cue, a small boy appeared from the kitchen, a slice of apple in hand. He stopped when he caught sight of Gibbs, tilting his head, a puzzled expression on his face. "Who're you?" he asked.

Angelika opened her mouth to respond, but Gibbs silenced her with a look. Instead, he walked up to the boy and knelt down so they were roughly eye level. He pulled out his badge and showed it to him. "I'm Agent Gibbs," he said. "I work with your mother. She had me come here to pick you and take you to see her."

The boy fingered the badge, but didn't respond. "Mom taught him not to talk to strangers," a new voice said from the hallway. Gibbs turned to find himself face to face with a very serious-looking seven-year-old. She impatiently pushed a lock of black hair from her face, only to have it fall right back where it was, as often happens with little girls. Despite having her father's coloring—black hair, deep blue eyes, caramel-colored skin—her features were like a young version of Sonja Gracy's, down to the dusting of freckles across her nose and cheekbones.

"That's good advice," he finally said. He turned the badge so she could see it. "But I'm a federal agent, which is like a police officer—"

"I know what a federal agent is," Maddie replied indignantly, her hands fisted at her small hips. "I'm not an idiot."

He smiled slightly at her words. He remembered that about young girls—their need to act older than they are, so eager to grow up. But he knew that this one had had a rough introduction to being grown up, and that there would always be a piece of her childhood that she'd be missing. "I didn't mean to imply that you were," he told her. "Your mother wanted me to come and pick you up."

Maddie frowned at his explanation. "Why isn't she here?"

"She's in the hospital," he said gently. "She's going to have to be there overnight, but she'll be okay."

"Was she shot?" Gibbs turned his head quickly back to Nate to see his eyes wide with wonder.

"No," Gibbs said quickly. "She jumped in the ocean to save another agent, and that made her really cold."

"Was the other agent swimming without a buddy?" Nate asked. "Mommy said we can never swim without a buddy."

"Something like that," Gibbs said with a smile. "But right now, I need you to go to your room and pack some clothes for the next few days."

Nate frowned. "I don't know how to pack," he informed the NCIS agent.

"I can help you," Gibbs informed him. He turned to Maddie. "Do you need any help?" She just frowned and quickly shook her head before running up the stairs toward her room.

"Come on," Nate said impatiently, slipping his hand in Gibbs' and tugging. "My room is upstairs. I want you to see." His small hand still latched onto Gibbs, he led the special agent up the stairs.

The room looked like a typical bedroom of a four-year-old boy, complete with the lofted bed, dinosaur bedspread, and pile of Lego's in the corner. "My suitcase is up there," Nate informed him, pointing at the top shelf of the closet. It had been awhile since Gibbs had helped a child pack for an overnight trip, but it didn't take long for it to come back to him. It certainly didn't hurt that Nate Gracy was a pretty smart and energetic kid, running around the room gathering things that Gibbs told him he needed as if it was a game.

His eyes fell on a framed photograph on the tiny pre-school sized desk under the bed, and he reached down to pick it up. "That's my dad," Nate said matter-of-factly. "He's dead."

"I know," Gibbs said quietly as he studied the picture. Major Gracy had been in his Army Combat Uniform, his beret securely in place, the wide grin on his face directed at his two-year-old son, held high in the air. "It looks like he was a good dad."

Nate shrugged a small shoulder. "I don't remember him," he informed Gibbs.

"He used to read you stories," Maddie said from the open doorway, a glare directed at her little brother, upset that he didn't remember their father. "I'm ready to go," she said indignantly as she turned the glare toward Gibbs and adjusted the straps of her backpack.

"Do you have your toothbrush?" Gibbs asked, remembering that it was usually the one thing Kelly forgot to pack whenever she was going anywhere. Maddie flushed slightly and headed for the bathroom without a word.

"I forgot my book," Nate said suddenly. He proceeded to run down the stairs and into the living room. Gibbs waited for Maddie to emerge with her toothbrush before they followed.

The boy held up two books, a thin one with bright colors and large letters, and a larger one that made Gibbs frown; he was pretty sure that wasn't English on the cover. "Mom reads us stories in German," Maddie informed him, noting the expression on his face. She again pushed her hair behind her ear. "We should get the car seats from Angelika's car before we go."

"Right," Gibbs agreed. "Can you guys get those while I grab some clothes for your mother?" Nate nodded eagerly before running for the attached garage. Maddie gave an exasperated sigh, but followed her brother without further complaint.

After tossing a few sets of warm clothes and other necessities in a bag for Gracy, Gibbs returned to the living room to wait for the kids. Like the rest of the house, it was tastefully decorated, a mix of the personal and impersonal. One of the personal touches was above the mantel, what his Marine buddies would tongue-in-cheek refer to as the 'widow's wall'. It had the three requisite framed items: trifold flag in the middle, collection of medals on one side, wedding picture on the other. From the looks of it, the college sweethearts were married on a beach, maybe in her home state of Florida. Gibbs wondered how long it took the male Second Lieutenant Gracy to get the sand from his dress uniform. "We're ready," Maddie announced, breaking his reverie.

"Good," he said, turning back to face the children. He grabbed the car seats and headed for the door, the kids bidding goodbye to their nanny as they left.

---

Agent Tony DiNozzo knew he was in a hospital without even having to open his eyes. There was just something hospitals: the smell, the sounds, the feeling of impending doom. What he didn't know was what he was doing there.

He slowly opened his eyes, blinking against the brightness of the room, despite the dimmed lights. "Tony?" Ah, a familiar voice.

He turned his head to find himself face to face with his partner. "Hey," he managed, his voice hoarse. Even that one syllable was excruciating for him, and he broke out in a series of coughs that left his whole body shaking. After he felt he could trust his voice again, he said, "My throat's a bit dry. Does this hospital give out those tasty ice chips?"

For some reason, Ziva looked amused by that comment, more so than she should have been. "I do not think ice is what your body needs right now," she informed him.

He frowned, but didn't feel like he had the energy to get her to explain. Instead, he glanced around the room, trying to see if he could determine why he was in the intensive care unit. When nothing came to mind, he gave up and turned back to Ziva. "So what was it this time?" he asked with a sigh. "I've already had the plague, so…smallpox? Gunshot? One too many slaps to the back of the head?"

She smiled at that last one before answering. "Hypothermia."

Ah. That explained her comment about ice chips. He glanced down at his body, realizing for the first time that he was covered in blankets and heating pads. "I guess that explains why I'm dressed like an extra from Ice Station Zebra." At her blank look, he elaborated, "1968 film, produced by John Sturges and starring Rock Hudson. It's an adaptation of the Alistair McLean novel—"

He stopped abruptly at her hand clamped over his mouth. "I do not care about another one of your movies, Tony."

He gave her a weak grin as she removed her hand. He could already feel himself drifting back off to sleep, his eyelids growing heavy. "I should go tell Gibbs that you are awake," she said, rising from the chair. He was going to reply that he didn't think his current state qualified as 'awake', but decided it wasn't worth the effort. He was pretty sure he was already dreaming when he felt her soft lips brush against his forehead.