A/N: Wow, thanks for the feedback, guys! You really made my day! :) Fair warning: I'm not a doctor, nor do I have the slightest medical training, so everything in this chapter is solely based on my lousy research... if there are any obvious mistakes, make sure to point them out to me ;) Hope you like it.

Chapter Two: Desperation

"Taking him…?" Tony trailed off, as the words finally settled in.

He blinked a couple of times before he remembered how to breathe. He had known that there was the possibility that Jethro would not make it, but right until that moment, he had refused to think about it. It had been that one possibility that simply wasn't one. Gibbs would not be taken away from him like that. Not when Tony was in charge of that. He simply wouldn't let it happen.

"Off life support, yes," Dr. Martin's calm voice cut through his inner turmoil like a knife. "I know this is a very difficult time for you, Agent DiNozzo, but there was no change in his health at all. I'm sorry to tell you like this, but if we continue this, we are just prolonging the inevitable."

Tony stared at him, shaking his head and feeling like his insides had been dipped into ice cold water.

"No. No. No. No," he mumbled and turned to look at the lifeless form that was his partner.

Tony's pulse sped up and his gut was churning uncomfortably in the knowledge that he might actually have no other choice than to do it. Why in the world had he ever signed that piece of paper that had made him the ruler of Jethro's life in case of a situation like that? He simply could have refused. But he hadn't and now he felt the weight of his decision crashing down on him at full speed. And he had no idea how not to suffocate under it. As if from far away, he heard Dr. Martin clear his throat loudly and Tony reluctantly averted his gaze from Gibbs to look at the physician instead.

"I understand," the man continued rather softly now. "That this is a lot to take in right now. You don't have to make the decision right away. Talk to your family, friends. And if you got any questions, anything at all, just give me a call."

Tony stared at him for a moment and then as if in trance felt himself nodding. Dr. Martin gave him a sad smile and then left him sitting there, staring at the spot where he had just vanished. Tony sank back into his chair, unable to form a coherent thought, unable to look at Jethro just yet, unable even to cry. So, this was it. Were these really the last hours of Jethro's life? Not at some battlefield or the other, not chasing down a suspect, but in a goddamn hospital and at Tony's own hands? This simply couldn't be true. This was just a nightmare that wouldn't end. He couldn't lose Jethro like this. He couldn't…

Finally, the tears started to roll down his cheeks and he heard someone sobbing loudly before he realized that it was him. He stretched out his hand and laid it upon Jethro's, squeezing it softly, urging it to twitch in a way of showing him that his partner was still in there somewhere.

But it remained still, no matter just how much he wished it to move.

.

Tony had no idea how long he had been sitting there, his hand upon Gibbs', staring at the guy. And he had no idea when he had finally gotten up from the uncomfortable plastic chair that had become his home over those last three weeks and had actually made the necessary calls. But there he was sitting now, for the first time not in, but in front of the room, looking into the faces of his friends – family, really.

His desperation must have shown on his face in some way or another - It wasn't like he would hide anything these days anyway. Gibbs' situation had hit all of them very hard, and Tony's sorrow was theirs, too, to some degree. – because as soon as Abby and Ziva had taken a single look at him, their faces had fallen and Abby had clasped her hand over her mouth as she had hurried towards him. By the time she had pulled him into a fierce hug, tears were already streaming down her face, smearing up her make-up. Even though Tony had returned the hug, he had wished she wouldn't have. Wouldn't have hugged him, wouldn't have cried. He simply couldn't take it. He couldn't take being the strong one for her because he simply wasn't. He was on the verge of breaking down, he knew that, and yet he had to be there and tell his friends.

He had never been so thankful to see McGee arrive, as he had immediately taken over the task of calming down Abby. Tony had thrown him a grateful glance and Tim had just nodded solemnly in return, his eyes giving away his sheer fear all the same. Ducky had been the last to arrive and once the team was assembled – Jackson wouldn't be there for another few hours – Tony slumped back down onto the chair, running a shaky hand through his rather long hair as he desperately tried to regain some kind of composure. He steeled himself for the words that would not come easily out of his mouth and would forever haunt him, but he needed to tell them, he had no other choice. So he let out one final trembling breath before he looked up at them and spoke out what all of them had probably known ever since he had called them.

"The doctors want to take him off life support."

He heard Abby gasp for air loudly, heard McGee let out a soft "No" and felt Ziva sink down onto a chair next to him. But he couldn't look at them, couldn't stand to watch their reactions. He simply wasn't able to because all of them had been his lifeline those last couple of weeks whenever things had gotten too rough. But now the time had come when they simply weren't able to help him anymore.

Silence was reigning for a very long time after his words and Tony felt like it was suffocating him, but he couldn't bring himself to disrupt it and it didn't seem like it mattered anyway. He was hanging in his thoughts, frantically looking for a way out of this mess and hadn't even realized that both Ducky and Palmer had retreated from the scene until they were coming back towards them, looking just as lost as Tony felt.

"We, uh," Ducky hesitantly and uncharacteristically started. "That is Mr. Palmer and I, have just talked to Jethro's doctors and sadly, we have come to the conclusion that it does seem like the reasonable solution to…"

"Reasonable solution?" Tony interrupted him only above a whisper. "Reasonable solution? How is this a reasonable solution, Ducky? How can it ever…?"

"I know this is hard, Anthony," Ducky tried to soothe him and his voice was breaking now, stealing all of Tony's momentary thunder. "But it seems like his traumatic brain injury is sadly as severe as it can be. The MRI images show that the diffuse axonal injury is extensive which means that the damage occurs over a widespread area. You already know this, of course. The doctors have had the hope that it would get better, but this hasn't been the case. Ninety percent of patients with severe DAI never regain consciousness and there has been nothing in Jethro's condition that would suggest otherwise. I'm so sorry."

Tony stared at him for a few long moments. He had already known all of this, had known that the chances of Jethro waking up were pretty slim, but did Ducky not just say that there was still a chance that he might regain consciousness?

"But that means that there are still ten percent who do wake up," he heard Abby say quietly, speaking his exact thought out loud.

"There are," Palmer replied just as calmly, his eyes darting around the hallway, never settling on one of his friends. "But even if he does wake up, it is very likely that he'll stay in a persistent vegetative state or remain significantly impaired for the rest of his life. It seems like this way, Tony would make sure that he doesn't have to suffer any longer, I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" Tony shouted as he sprang up, not knowing why he was feeling so angry all of a sudden, when all he really wanted to do was go sit in a corner and cry. "You're sorry?" he made a step towards Palmer who intuitively backed away from him. "What would you do if this was Breena lying there? Would you just go in there and say what the hell? There's still a ten percent probability that she might wake up, but I can't take the chances that she won't ever be the same, so I'll rather kill her? Huh? Would you?"

He watched Palmer's eyes grow wide in horror and they seemed brighter than he had ever seen them before Tony realized what he had just done. He almost imperceptibly shook his head, causing a few strands of hair fall onto his forehead. Palmer in the meantime was still staring at him struck with horror, but Tony couldn't bring himself to care. Only when he felt a warm hand, belonging to Ziva, on his forearm, did Tony sink back down onto his chair, desperately trying to stop the tears from rolling.

"I'm sorry, Jimmy," he finally mumbled, realizing that Palmer had simply offered an opinion. "It's not your fault. It's just… I can't… sorry."

"It's okay, Tony," the younger man replied, still eyeing him rather warily, but he nevertheless stepped forward and softly squeezed his shoulder.

Tony looked up at him for a moment and nodded once before he fixed his glance on his shoes again. He knew that Palmer and Ducky were right, it was the most prudent and reasonable choice. But he couldn't do it. Simply couldn't do it because for the rest of life, he would wonder if he had done the wrong thing. How would he be able to live with himself?

He hadn't been aware that he had started to cry again until he felt the tears roll down his cheeks. He hurried to wipe them away, so that the others wouldn't see, but then he realized that there was only Ziva still sitting there with him. The others were gone. She still had her hand on his arm, providing warmth and an odd form of comfort.

"I just don't know what to do," he finally mumbled, still staring at the floor. "I just can't make the decision. You know… I promised him that I wouldn't chicken out and that I'd take care of him, but how can I kill him if there's still that tiny little chance that he's going to wake up? How can I do that, Ziva?"

"You would not be killing him, Tony," Ziva said and then got up from her chair to squat down in front of him, her arms resting on his thighs, so that he couldn't help but look into her sad brown eyes. "Maybe you would do him a favor. Maybe he is hurting and it would really be the best to move on, you know. It is not killing if you let the one you love go."

Tony stared at her for a few long moments, trying to process everything she had just said. He knew her words to be true, but that didn't mean that he would have to accept them.

"I can't do it," he finally said in a trembling voice. "What if… I mean… what would you do?"

"I cannot make that decision for you," Ziva sighed, tapping her knuckles against his knees. "And I do not have the medical insights to make a well-informed suggestion. I am sorry."

Tony nodded mutely and blinked a couple of times, trying to get rid of the tears and trying to pull himself together. He knew that Ziva was right and that it was only his decision. He desperately wanted the others to help him, but he realized that it was that kind of thing he had to go through alone in the end.

"What if I…," he continued talking after a very long pause. "What if I don't do it right away? I mean, the insurance is covered and all, what if I let myself believe that there is still a chance and take my chances?"

"I guess, you can do that," Ziva replied, the softest of a smile playing on her lips. "But you have to set a deadline for it, Tony. And you have to give yourself and me the promise that you will do it once it has to be done."

Tony nodded, suddenly feeling strangely relieved that Ziva hadn't rebuked him for his suggestion. He didn't know if it was a reasonable one, but he didn't care. He simply couldn't give Jethro up after such a short time. He just couldn't do it, yet. Maybe in a month or so, his mind would be clearer and he'd realize that he couldn't prolong the inevitable any longer. He also knew that his friends would accept his decision, too. They had been there for him through it all and they would still be there afterwards. At least, he desperately hoped so.

"Promise me," he whispered a while later, looking Ziva squarely into her eyes. "That you won't hate me if I really pull the plug?"

"I will not hate you," Ziva replied equally quietly, her eyes telling him that she wasn't lying. "I love Gibbs like a father, but I trust you."

"If Gibbs is your father, then what am I? The creepy stepmom?" Tony asked before he realized what he had just done.

He clasped his hand over his mouth, feeling like he had just betrayed everything and everyone he ever cared for. Ziva, however, smiled at him sympathetically.

"It was just a joke, Tony. You will not kill Gibbs by telling a joke or laughing. I am sure he would want you to laugh because it is what you do best."

Tony stared at her, feeling the goddamn tears once again sting his eyes, making his vision slightly blurry.

"God, I'm such a mess," he pressed out and then felt himself enveloped in a hug.

And maybe it was what made the difference right there and then. Ziva had never hugged him before and he realized only now that he needed her to be on his side. Desperately needed her to back him up in his decision.

"You are not a mess," she tried to soothe him. "You have been holding up so great. I would not have been able to do it like that. And I trust you to make the right decision now because you always do, Tony. You always do."

Tony nodded mutely and then buried his face in her shoulder, hiding it from the world and not caring that it wasn't a thing they'd normally do. It didn't matter. He just needed someone to hold on to and Ziva had been incredibly supportive these last three weeks. He knew he could count on her no matter what.

"I think I'll wait," he finally concluded. "Just for another three weeks. I think I owe him that much. Give him that one chance to fight. Because if Gibbs is good at one thing, it's fighting."