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Part II Recovering

Chapter One: Disruption

Three weeks had passed since Gibbs had first looked at Tony again, had first shown signs of understanding what was going on around him, had first nodded. It wasn't like Tony had expected any miracles, he knew that Gibbs was not Superman after all, but he hadn't thought that it would be that slow, either. He knew that he wasn't supposed to think like that. He should have been happy that Gibbs slowly seemed to come back to the world, to his surroundings, to him. And yet, there was something gnawing away at Tony and he couldn't even put a finger on what it was exactly.

There were the good days when Gibbs was somewhat alert and was reacting to loud sounds and things around him and sometimes even seemed to answer with a slight nod with his head, but there were also the really bad ones when he barely ever woke up or if he did, was not looking at anything or anyone. Ducky had explained to Tony that this was perfectly normal. Inconsistency was even expected in such cases and Tony shouldn't be alarmed when Gibbs seemed to be awake and functioning one day but not the next. The ME had urged the younger man to learn to tolerate those bad days as best as he could because he wasn't helping anyone with getting angry or impatient.

Tony knew that Ducky was right, but little did it help to keep his emotions in check. He was growing impatient, he was angry at the world and at himself at times, just to be devastated and hopeless the next second. He had to get himself under control before he would lash out at some innocent bystander. He had realized that long ago, but somehow he didn't handle it really well. As of now, Ducky, McGee and Palmer had been the victims of one of Tony's unjustified outbursts and even though Tony had immediately apologized afterwards, he knew that it wasn't right. It wasn't their fault that Jethro was still fighting to hold on; it wasn't their fault that Tony felt so helpless and useless.

.

It took another two weeks, but then finally, the ventilator that had helped Gibbs breathe wasn't necessary anymore. But if Tony had thought it would make things easier, would make it easier to talk to him, would make it easier for the older man to answer, he saw himself proven wrong. In the first few nights, Jethro had been restless, sometimes even agitated and as much Tony had wanted to help him, he hadn't been able to. Because Jethro couldn't tell him what exactly was wrong or what was going on in his mind, Tony couldn't react to it. He had tried to soothe him with touches, with words, with just looking at him, but nothing seemed to help. Jethro remained vaguely disorientated and even though he was breathing on his own now, he wasn't able to do much of anything else. Tony just didn't know what to do and the few things he had actually tried were just as useless as he was starting to feel like. However, it didn't stop him from wanting to help, even though it got more frustrating with every day that passed with no change.

And with every day that went by, Tony felt more lost. He wanted to help him and had done whatever the doctors had suggested, but nothing seemed to do the trick and it slowly tore him apart. All he really wanted to do was to climb into bed with the other man, hold him tightly in his arms and whisper nonsense things into his ear to calm him down. And yet it was the only thing he simply couldn't do and he didn't even know why. But whenever Tony just touched as much as Gibbs' hand, the older man would flinch away from him, a frown building on his face. The first few times that it had happened, Tony thought that the guy was still confused, but his behavior hadn't changed. And it wouldn't have been that bad if Jethro's wasn't willing to let anyone touch him, but he didn't seem to be reserved when it came to Ducky's soft pats on his shoulder or Abby's hand in his own.

And with every time that Jethro winced at Tony's touch, a little part in Tony died. He felt like crying and even though, he knew that it wasn't Gibbs' fault, he couldn't help but feel that way. Why was it so hard for him to let him touch him? Hadn't Tony deserved that much? He had been by his side almost twenty-four hours a day, had prayed to gods he didn't even believe in that he would be alright again, had done everything in his power to make him feel more comfortable, but it all didn't seem to be enough. Didn't seem to be enough for one single touch, for one single skin contact and it was slowly eating Tony up alive.

.

It was another three weeks before Jethro was discharged from the ICU and moved to the Specialty Hospital of Washington for rehabilitation. Even though he was stable now, things weren't exactly looking up as far as Tony could assess. He knew that it was nonsense, there had been as much progress as could be expected and somewhere deep inside of him, he did know that, too, and yet he felt more desperate than ever. He wouldn't listen to Ducky anymore when he'd tell him that this was all very good and progressing really well. He simply couldn't see it. Gibbs still couldn't talk, would have to learn it from scratch again; he still couldn't move more than his head and sometimes a finger when he wanted and worst of it all, he didn't seem to remember anything or anyone. It was hard to tell because sometimes, when he was fully lucid, he would look at Tony with a speculative look on his face, a brow furrowed as if he was concentrating hard. But the moment would pass as quickly as it had started, leaving Tony even emptier inside.

All of this wasn't unusual for patients who had suffered from a severe traumatic brain injury, as Ducky had tried to tell him. And Tony knew that, too, but it didn't help the ache in his heart whenever Gibbs was looking at him with a blank expression.

It didn't stop Tony from staying by his side through it all, though. He was still sitting next to his partner's bed night and day, was still there when he woke up and when he fell asleep. He was still there when the doctors and therapists came and he was still there whenever Gibbs would wake up in the middle of the night, his eyes darting all around the room, his shirt clinging to his body from sweat and screaming incoherently from the impact of what had to be terrible nightmares. And every time, Tony just wanted to reach out and touch him to calm him down, but whenever he had tried that, Gibbs had flinched away so violently that even Tony had to realize that it was no use touching the guy when he was like that.

While all doctors and friends claimed that Jethro was doing so well considering the circumstances, there weren't any guarantees. Gibbs could stay like that forever, the speech therapy could not work, his mobility and self care skills could never come back and he might never be able to even eat without help again. He could forever stay in his own little world, could forever be a prisoner of his own thoughts and could forever be lost for Tony.

But even if he wouldn't improve, even if things would forever stay like this, Tony knew that he wouldn't leave his side, even if Gibbs couldn't remember him, couldn't remember them. He had promised the older man that he would be there no matter what and he wasn't about to break his promise. Gibbs might not be fully there, but Tony was and it would have to be enough for both of them.

.

Today was one of the good days. Gibbs had been awake on and off, but each time he seemed actually awake, had looked at Tony with the same confusion on his face as always, but Tony was used to it by now. It wasn't exactly a special day, but it did mark the fifth good day for Gibbs in a row and that was definitely a first. The doctors had told him that it would keep on going to improve and that Tony was supposed to talk as much to Gibbs as possible. He had done that – a lot. If there was one thing he was good at after all, it was talking. At times, it had seemed like Gibbs had actually listened and it helped Tony to realize that maybe all his nervous ramblings weren't for nothing.

Tony was just telling him about the famous car chase scene in Bullitt when the door to Jethro's room opened and none other than the director of NCIS himself stuck his head in at the door.

"Agent DiNozzo," he said rather softly. "Do you have a minute?"

"Uh, sure," Tony replied, casting a quick glance at Gibbs who had turned his head towards his new visitor. "I'll be right back, Jethro. Don't think I'm done with Bullitt just yet. You have to hear about the bullshit-controversy, I'm telling you. I won't be long."

With that and one last look at Gibbs, Tony stood up and followed Vance out the room. They walked down the hallway in silence and still hadn't spoken a word when they stepped out of the hospital and sat down on a nearby bench.

"With all due respect, as much as I enjoy a little walk, Director," Tony finally started to talk, "I really don't want to stay away for too long right now."

"I understand that, DiNozzo," Vance replied, giving him a small smile. "I have to talk to you about something and I wasn't sure if it would be the best idea to discuss this in front of Gibbs."

"Okay," Tony said. "So, what's up?"

"As Miss Scuito has been so kind to update me on Gibbs' condition on the last weeks, I understand that he is doing better."

"Yeah," Tony just answered, not keen on elaborating.

"I also understand that you want to be there for him as much as you can. And I have done my best to take the work load off you."

"Appreciate that," Tony said, inclining his head.

"Matter of course, DiNozzo," Vance continued gruffly. "However, there is only so much I can do. Your vacation time is up and you maxed your leave of absence."

Tony stared at him for a moment before the reality of what Vance was trying to tell him slowly sunk in. He felt his gut churning at the mere thought of going back to work. He couldn't do that, not when things were still in limbo like that.

"I can't go back to work, Director," he finally answered quietly but firmly.

"I don't think you have a choice, DiNozzo. Two more weeks is the best I can do, but after that I'd be forced to fire you due to absence from work without permission."

"Then fire me," Tony pressed out, his hands balling into fists. "I won't go back in two weeks."

"DiNozzo," Vance replied sharply. "You can't just do that. As much as I hate to admit it, next to Gibbs, you're the best agent our agency has to offer."

"Bringing out the big guns won't help," the younger man answered determinedly and yet couldn't help but feel the sudden rush of pride to his head at the praise.

"Maybe not. But one of you two has to earn some money, DiNozzo, and at this moment you're the only one that can do that. There's bills to pay, medical bills nonetheless."

"You don't understand," Tony started, trying to keep his voice low and even and failing miserably. "I can't go back to work. Not like this. Would you just go back to normal if this was your wife in there? Would you?"

Obviously taken aback by Tony's outburst, Vance leaned away from him ever so slightly and studied his features for a moment before he gave a slight nod.

"I would because I have kids to take care of; I have kids to give a future to. You might not have children, Tony, but you do have a future. You and Gibbs both have. In the long run, you'd regret the decision, I'm sure about that."

"Director," Tony started, but was cut off.

"Just think about it long and hard. You have to go back at some point. Maybe not to NCIS, but you will have to go back to your life. I know it won't be easy, but I trust you to know that the agency and I have your back on this. I can put you and Agents David and McGee on cold cases, so that you're guaranteed to be gone from the Navy Yard at five o'clock every day. This way you'd be able to leave at any given moment if Gibbs requires your help. I can guarantee you that, other employees are not likely to do that. So just think about what I said before you make any rash decisions."

With that, Vance stood up and reached out his hand, which Tony took and shook after a moment of contemplation. The director nodded curtly and then turned to leave, but stopped dead in his tracks a moment later, a slight smirk on his face.

"One question, though, DiNozzo. What in the world is the BS-controversy?"

Tony couldn't help letting out a bark of a laugh at that before he continued, "Bullitt was the first major film that used the word bullshit. They had already edited it out of the final cut but Steve McQueen and Peter Yates, the director, insisted that it had to stay in. They won in the end."

"Good to know," Vance just said and with that he was gone, leaving Tony sitting there, staring at nothing in particular and trying to get his head around everything the director had just said.

.

It was Ziva that found him in the exact same spot almost an hour later on her way to one of her regular visit to Gibbs'.

"Tony?" she asked as she had already sat down next to him, startling him out of his thoughts. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah," Tony nodded, trying to pull himself away from his thoughts. "Yeah, everything's alright."

"Then why are you sitting here and not in Gibbs' room?"

"Vance just stopped by," he started to explain, his voice barely above a whisper. "Told me to go back to work, like it is the easiest thing in the world."

"You do not want to come back?" Ziva asked equally quiet.

"No. I mean, I don't know. I can't just go back there, can I? I mean what if something happens with Gibbs and I'm not there to help him? What if he thinks I forgot about him?"

"He will not think that," she replied with so much determination that Tony finally turned to look at her. "Just because you go back to work does not mean you have forgotten about him or given up on him. I am sure he knows that."

"How can you?" Tony asked quietly, once again trying to remain calm, but his fingers were already curling his hands into fists again. "How can you be sure when he doesn't talk? Doesn't move? What makes you think he knows who we are, who I am? Huh, how do you know?"

"I do not, Tony," Ziva replied and her voice was still even and controlled. "But I know Gibbs. And the Gibbs that I know would want you to go back because he always wants what is best for us. You simply cannot keep on living like that Tony. I know you want to be here and we all understand that, but have you taken a look into the mirror recently? You are not yourself anymore. You are skinny and in a desperate need of a haircut. I know it all does not seem important to you at the moment, but it all makes you less yourself. Maybe going back to work will help you regain some of your… Tony-ness. Gibbs will not think less of you for doing that and we will not, either."

"It's not that simple, Ziva. What if something really bad happens? What if he falls back into unconsciousness and I won't be there? What if he starts to talk again or grab something or whatever and I won't be there? How could I ever forgive myself?"

"I do not say it cannot happen. But listen, Tony. Right now you are not helping anybody. You are not helping Gibbs with hovering over him twenty-four hours a day. You are not helping us because you are not at work or anywhere. And above all you are not helping yourself. I have watched you tear yourself apart for too long. I know that you are hurting even if you will not let it show. I know you are desperate and I know you just want things to go back to normal. We all do. But maybe a bit of distance from the hospital will help you."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Tony cried out and finally sprang up from the bench, pacing back and forth. "You have no fucking clue what it is like. Do you have any idea what it feels like watching him look at you and he still doesn't know who you are? You don't know what it feels like trying to calm him down after a nightmare and he doesn't even let you touch him. He doesn't let me touch him, Ziva. We've been together for over three years, Ziva, and he won't let me touch him. Do you have any idea what that does to me? I'm so tired of it all, I'm just so tired of being a fighter. I just can't do it anymore."

He stopped pacing, burying his head in his hands. Tears had started rolling down his cheeks and he couldn't do anything to stop them. He hadn't cried since Ducky had told him to stay positive. That had been weeks ago. But he couldn't do that anymore. He couldn't pretend anymore. He just didn't seem to be able to stop the tears from coming, the sobs from escaping his mouth. He was still crying when Ziva approached him and engaged him a hug. He had no idea how long they had been standing there until he was able to stop his shoulders from shaking, until the last of his tears had dried. Through it all, Ziva had never uttered a single word, hadn't done anything but gently holding on to him.

"I'm sorry," he finally mumbled as he retreated and scrubbed a hand over his face to get rid of the remaining tears.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," she replied and unexpectedly took his hand in hers. "I am here to help and all I am asking is to let me, let us help you. You do not have to be strong for us, okay? We do not need the class clown or any superhero of your comics, Tony. We want to help you."

"Okay," Tony nodded, feeling as if all the energy had left him for the moment. "Okay."

For a moment, Tony looked at Ziva and realized that he had never been so glad to see her, not even when they had saved her from Somalia. He suddenly remembered the worst day of his life and how she had not contradicted him when he had told her that he wouldn't pull Gibbs off life support. He remembered how she had just been there and had held him just like she had hugged him mere minutes ago.

"Thank you," he finally said, looking her straight in the eyes, hoping that it was somehow enough.

Ziva just gave him a small smile and nodded.

"It is okay," she just said and squeezed his hand for a moment or two. "Let's get back inside, yes? I am sure Gibbs will still be there despite the fact that you were not in there with him for the last hour."

Despite himself, Tony let out a wobbly laugh and followed her lead.

"Nice try," he said and was slightly surprised that his voice suddenly didn't sound all that shaky anymore. "But I won't go back to work, Ziva. You will thank me for it, too. You'd be on cold cases again."

Ziva looked at him for a short moment before she simply shook her head. "I would take you over cold cases any time, Tony."