There's a steady buzzing around me and I'm afraid I'm being attacked by a swarm of killer bees. I try to open my eyes, but realize that I still can't move. This is really starting to get old. I mentally shake my head to clear it and the buzzing soon turns into a voice. It's Ducky, talking to me, probably to try to wake me up – but with his stories, that's not the usual result. That was kind of mean of me, what with Ducky sitting next to me keeping me company. Now I feel bad and start to listen to what he's saying.
"... she really is a lovely girl, Mother loves her. Diane is very patient, so that makes her the perfect caregiver. She takes Mother on outings, unlike some of the other nurses who just babysat. Although the other day she and Mother were in a mall and they passed by a pet shop..."
Oh no, a story about Mrs. Mallard. Couldn't he be telling me about one of his adventures as a youth? You should be ashamed of yourself, Anthony. Ducky is spending his time sitting next to your bed and you're complaining about his choice of subject matter. Mrs. Mallard is a nice old lady, even if she's a bit dangerous around sharp objects. Shut up and listen, and try to move something.
"... fell in love with a Birman kitten. I mean, really, we've got a house full of dogs already and she wants a kitten. Granted, the breed is beautiful and very friendly, good companions; I did some research on them. Their features look like Himalayans, but one distinction is that all Birmans have white socks. There's a wonderful folk tale about the breed. It seems that all the temple cats, Birmans were temple cats, you know; anyway the temple cats used to be pure white..."
I like cats, but they don't like me. So, while I like them, I'm a little wary of them. Funny, they say men are dog people and women are cat people. Anyway, I like 'em both. I always wanted a dog, but dogs would mess up the house and that just wasn't allowed. I'm surprised my parents had any kids at all - kids are pretty messy too. Then again, that's probably the reason why they only had me; they learned their lesson the hard way. I'm never around enough to give a dog the care and attention it needs. I suppose I could have a cat, they're more independent. Still, they need some attention, and there's that whole not liking me thing, but I bet we could get around that. It would be nice to come home and have something glad that I'm back. Wow, that sounded really pathetic.
"... the cat placed its paws on the body of the dead monk and its body turned golden, but its paws remained white, thus explaining the appearance of the breed. Charming tale, I must say I was pleased to find that story. That doesn't mean I'm sold on Mother getting a kitten, mind you. I know who will end up taking care of the blasted thing – me and Diane. Then again, Mother does clean up after the girls when they do their duty in the garden..."
I feel like I'm in the movie Coma. I wonder if all those people strung up from the ceiling could hear and feel what was going on around them. What other movies had people lying around like vegetables? Now that I think of it, this is more like a voodoo movie. The Believers, now that was a creepy flick. Martin Sheen before he became President but after he went to Vietnam. There's The Serpent and the Rainbow, oh and Dead Alive, now that was a great movie, directed by Peter Jackson before he became famous with the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Hey, my nose itches. I can't move my fingers, let alone scratch my nose. Damn, this is going to drive me crazy.
"... would be nice to have a purring cat sitting in my lap while I read. You know, Tony, I think I may have talked myself into getting a cat for Mother. What do you think about that? Tony? Do you have an itch?"
Yes! Please scratch my nose. Please, please please.
"I can see your nose twitching. Here, let me get that for you. This is wonderful, Tony. You just keep trying to move any part of your body that you can. Can you squeeze my fingers? Come, try a little harder, you can do it."
I can feel him wrap my hand around his fingers and I squeeze with every ounce of energy I can muster. I don't know if it's working, though, so I concentrate harder.
"Excellent, Tony! I felt just a slight bit of pressure..."
Slight pressure? If I were normal I would have broken his fingers.
"... You should make faster progress once the toxin is removed completely from your body. Just keep your spirits up and don't stop trying. We're all here for you."
Even though I didn't really do anything, I feel exhausted. I decide that I should sleep and maybe when I wake up I'll find out this is all some horrible nightmare. Ducky's voice fades back to the buzzing sound and I drift off.
oOoOoOo
Gibbs and the rest of his team were gathered in Abby's lab. They knew they were safe from prying eyes, at least for the time being. People would get suspicious if they stayed onsite for very long, and Abby did have other cases she needed to work on; though it was assumed that Tony's case would take priority on her to-do list, and no one would dare argue with her about that.
"We have a few partial prints from Tony's place," Abby said. "But so far, no matches." She bit her bottom lip. "Sorry, Gibbs."
"That's okay, Abs," Gibbs said. "Have you figured out what they injected into him?"
"Sort of," Abby replied, turning back to her computer and pulling up some graphs. "I found traces of Tetrodotoxin, that's the poison from puffer fish, but it's mixed in with something else I haven't been able to identify yet. Can I go sit with Tony? I can monitor my tests remotely."
"When we're finished here you can relieve Ducky," Gibbs agreed. "McGee, did you get anything off the security tape from Tony's building?"
McGee shook his head. "We can see when the pizza delivery guy arrived, but there's nothing suspicious about him or anyone else coming into the building."
"There had to be more than one assailant to overpower Tony," Gibbs said. "They got into the building somehow, find out how. Who made the 911 call?"
"They didn't call 911, they called NCIS directly," Ziva replied. "It was anonymous, someone called in using a no-name cell phone and reported hearing a gunshot."
"Do we have a tape of the call?"
"Yes." McGee turned and punched some keys, pulling up the requested sound file.
A muffled voice said, "I want to report gunshots from Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo's apartment. I think he's dead, you better send someone."
"They knew Tony's name and who he works for," McGee said. "It could be personal."
"McGee, go through Tony's old cases, see if anyone's been released since the last time we had to do this."
"Chip's still in jail," Abby said. "I checked that first thing."
Gibbs smiled. "Good girl, that's one down. Whoever did this didn't just want to kill Tony, they wanted him to suffer."
"What do you mean?" Ziva asked.
"Ducky and the other doctors believe that Tony is aware of what's going on around him, but can't speak or move."
"What if Ducky had started an autopsy?" Abby asked.
"He probably would have felt every cut of the scalpel," Gibbs replied grimly. "I want the sadists that did this to him. McGee, look for anyone that has a background in medicine or chemistry, or marine biology. Ziva, you and I will go over the scene again and see if we can find anyone who saw or heard something. Abby, see if you can coax Tony into waking up."
Abby saluted. "I'm on it, Bossman. I'll get a reaction out of Tony." She grinned at the rest of them.
"Try not to get yourself thrown out, Abs," Gibbs warned. "And don't start something you can't finish."
"Never, Gibbs."