I'm lying in the sunshine, it's warm on my face and I feel relaxed and peaceful. There's music coming from somewhere, soft and soothing. I hear voices, low and melodic. Someone's crying. I try to see who that is, but I can't. Gibbs is looking at me, his face is lined and there are dark circles under his eyes. His mouth is moving but I can't hear what he's saying. Oh my God, I'm deaf. When did that happen? He moves away and Abby comes up. She's crying. McGee's with her, he's got his arm around her shoulders and he looks like he's going to cry too. What the hell is going on? There's Ziva, she looks sad. She says something and puts a rose on my chest. Ducky's next, looking older than I've ever seen him look. I can't hear what he's saying either. Palmer is next to him. He doesn't say anything, but his puppy-dog eyes are bright and he looks like he's going to burst into tears any minute.
Gibbs reaches over above me and starts to pull something down. I realize I'm in a coffin and they're closing it. I try to scream, to yell I'm still alive, but I can't move or make a sound. I hear something hit the box and I realize they're shoveling dirt over the coffin. I struggle to move, to pound on the lid to get their attention. I'm trying to scream but nothing comes out. I can't breathe. I hear a shrill buzzing in my ears and I know I'm dying.
oOoOoOo
The monitors started blinking as a shrill alarm pierced the air. Abby and Ducky jumped up, moving quickly to Tony's bedside. The agent was breathing heavily, perspiration beading his face, his eyes moving rapidly under his closed lids.
A doctor and nurse rushed into the room. "What happened?"
"He's having an episode of some sort," Ducky declared anxiously, checking the monitors. "His pulse is racing and his blood pressure has shot up."
Doctor O'Hara checked the monitors. "Agent DiNozzo," he called loudly, trying to rouse the agitated agent. "Agent DiNozzo, wake up."
"Tony," Abby called anxiously. "Wake up, Tony. It's okay, you're safe." She took his hand in hers and began patting it.
Tony's eyelids fluttered, then opened.
oOoOoOo
I try to focus my eyes, to look for Abby. I know I heard her voice, but I can't see her anywhere. I blink rapidly, but I can't clear my eyes. I'm crying, damn it, and I can't catch my breath. I hear strange voices and see strange faces, but I'm looking for Abby and Ducky. I feel someone take my hand and start patting it. Using all my strength I turn my head to the side. I can barely move it, but it's enough for me to catch sight of Abby's sweet face. She looks upset and she's clutching my hand.
"Tony, please don't cry; you're going to be okay." I hate the look on her face and try to compose myself, but I can't. The dream has unlocked all the fear that's been building up inside me and it's pouring out of me. She gets into bed with me and pulls me to her chest, stroking my hair and rocking me as I cry silently and soak the front of her blouse. I hear Ducky's voice behind me and I assume it's his hand that's stroking my back. The doctor says something about not wanting to give me a sedative and he tells Abby to try to calm me down. She's trying, and so is Ducky, and I'm starting to breathe a little more easily.
I would never break down like this in front of Gibbs. At least I hope I never would. I can be open and honest with Ducky and Abby. I can show my weak side to them. I could never do that with Gibbs. It's not that he doesn't want to know about people's weaknesses, and it's not even that he'd look down on me for breaking down like this. It's just not something I want him to see me doing.
I've calmed down. It was a dream, that's all. I'm not dead. I can move a little, and I'm regaining feeling as time passes. I take a deep breath and relax.
"You okay, Tony?" I can't nod my head, but I can squeeze Abby's hand. She kisses the top of my head and gently moves out from under me, straightening the pillows for me.
"Rough dream, Tony?" Ducky looks concerned. I try to say something but only manage to croak. I am so sick of this.
"I know we're beginning to sound like broken records, but you're making remarkable progress. Just a little over thirty-six hours ago you appeared dead, with barely a heartbeat and almost no respiration. Now look at you: you're breathing on your own, your eyes are open and you can squeeze our hands. You even moved your head a little, and you can make sounds. It'll all come back to you, my boy. Just give your body time to recover."
"Listen to Ducky, Tony. He's a wise man." Abby's computer beeps and she rushes over to it. "I gotta call Gibbs," she says, and rushes out of the room.
"Well, I hope that's good news. Now Tony, shall we try moving our mouths? Say ahhhhhh…oooooh….. eeeeeee"
oOoOoOo
"That's good, Abs, thanks." Gibbs clicked his cell phone shut as he exited the car and headed for Tony's apartment. He opened the door and ducked under the crime scene tape.
"Ziva, McGee," Gibbs yelled. "Abby's identified one of the prints," he said as the two agents came in from the kitchen. "They belong to an ex-con by the name of David Greeley. Go find him and pick him up. Take him to headquarters, I'll meet you there."
"What about Rockwell?" McGee asked.
"I'll go talk to him," Gibbs replied.
Gibbs knocked on Rockwell's door, smiling when the ex-cop opened. "Mr. Rockwell, I'd like to ask you some more questions, see if I can jog your memory."
"Of course," Rockwell stepped back and motioned Gibbs to enter the apartment. "Can I get you some coffee?"
"Yes, please," Gibbs replied. He followed the older man into the kitchen. "You said you thought you saw two men outside the building, right?"
Rockwell nodded. "Yeah, out near the edge of the parking lot. The light's not good there."
"Did you see them drop the phone?"
Rockwell shook his head. "No, I just heard one of them tell the other one that they should get rid of it. You want cream or sugar?"
"Black, please." Rockwell handed Gibbs a steaming mug.
"Thank you ," Gibbs said, taking a sip of the strong brew. "Is there anything else you can remember about the two men; how they were dressed, did either of them limp or have a distinctive voice, did they have accents?"
Rockwell leaned back against the counter and looked thoughtful. "Well, one of them had some sort of accent. It might have been Hispanic. I'm sorry Agent Gibbs," he said regretfully, "I really didn't get close enough to them to get a good look."
"That's okay," Gibbs replied. "It was worth a try."
"They took two bodies out of Tony's apartment," Rockwell observed. "Who was the second victim?"
"Pizza delivery boy, Reggie Foster," Gibbs replied. "Wrong place, wrong time."
"Damn shame." Rockwell shook his head. "I wish I could help you catch the scum. Tony was a good guy, he shouldn't have died like that."
"No," Gibbs agreed, "he shouldn't have. Thanks for the coffee, Mr. Rockwell."
"Any time, Agent Gibbs," Rockwell said, walking Gibbs to the door. "You be sure to let me know when you catch the guys."
"I will."