Disclaimer: NCIS and its characters do not belong to me and this story is not intended as an infringement of copyright. It has been written solely for entertainment and no profit has been made from its creation.
BLINDSIDED
Chapter Six
The electrical storm outside continued to rage and the rain pelted against the window of Tony's hospital room - but it was the storm raging inside that had Gibbs concerned. He had known Tony wasn't ready for this and had warned Ducky not to broach the matter so soon. But Ducky and the doctors were insistent that placing Tony in a reorientation centre for the blind was the best option. Whilst Gibbs didn't disagree that Tony needed specialised help, he did disagree with the timing - Ducky and the doctors knew medical procedures - but he knew DiNozzo.
"No!" Tony yelled forcibly, nudging his headache up a few notches "I don't need it!"
"Anthony, please, you must understand," Ducky pleaded. "This is for your own good, my boy."
Tony barked out a sarcastic laugh and Gibbs winced, anticipating the reply.
"Wait a minute," Tony said, raising his index finger in the air. "I'm having a flashback - I'm eight years old and it's three weeks after my mother died. My father said those exact words when he packed me off to boarding school."
"Anthony…"
"Or maybe it was when I came home for summer vacation - desperate to spend some time with my Dad - and whichever stepmother I had at the time didn't want me underfoot during the holidays. Before I could put my luggage in my room and my ass in a chair, I found myself at summer camp. Not this time, Ducky, I'm not a kid anymore - I make my own decisions!"
"Then tell me this," Ducky said patiently. "When they release you from the hospital in a few days, where will you go?"
"I have an apartment that I know like the back of my hand! I have a cleaning lady who comes in once a week," he said, trying to rub the throbbing pain from his temples. "I can pay my bills and order my groceries online and have them delivered. And I have Mrs Cantrell across the hall if I need anything."
"Well," Ducky countered. "It appears you have this all figured out. Tell me, my boy, once you get your groceries home, how will you know a can of beans from a can of soup? How do you read your bills so you can pay them online or, for that matter, how will you pay them online if you can't use your computer? How will you sort your whites from your colours when doing your laundry or know whether you are wearing matching socks? How will you read the labels on your medication, Anthony? Do you intend to stay locked up in your apartment for the rest of your days?"
"Stop! Just…stop!" He took some deep breaths before continuing. "I can stay in my apartment until my sight returns, I can do this - I know I can! Colby said this might only last days, or maybe weeks. I can cope by myself until my sight returns, I don't need the centre!" he said, hating the desperation in his voice and worn out by the emotions coursing through him.
"Oh, Anthony," Ducky said sadly. "You know, as well as I, that Doctor Colby also said that your sight may never return."
Tony's mouth tightened with mutinous anger and his body stiffened with indignation.
"It will return, Ducky, I know it will," he said through tightly clenched teeth.
"The reorientation centre is a marvellous facility that can teach you how to live a happy and independent life," Ducky persevered.
"I have a happy and independent life!" Tony shouted, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes to try to stop the searing headache.
"Had, my boy, you had a happy and independent life, now your life may have changed forever and the sooner you start to accept that, the better it will be for you!"
Tony dropped his guard for just a few seconds but long enough for Gibbs to recognise the signs. He swallowed hard and took a moment to compose himself as his body shuddered under the onslaught of his pent-up emotions.
Gibbs watched as Tony's expression closed-down, a clear indication that he was not prepared to discuss the matter any further. Tony always had the maddening tendency to cut himself off from others when he was hurting - a self-preservation tactic learnt through necessity as a child and carried into adulthood.
"Duck," Gibbs said, softly but firmly. "He's had enough."
Ducky walked to Tony's side and placed his hand on his wrist to take his pulse. He felt Tony's body stiffen and then relax at his touch. He reached for the small plastic cup that contained Tony's medication and poured a glass of water.
"Take these, my boy," Ducky said gently, placing the pills in Tony's hand and assisting him to guide the cup of water to his mouth. "Now, lie back and try to rest."
The elderly ME cupped Tony's stubbly chin in his hand and gently lifted his face toward him.
"Anthony… I am your friend and I would never put you through something like this if it weren't for the best. Whatever you decide, our friendship will never falter."
Tony nodded silently; closing his eyes he willed sleep to come quickly so he could escape the torment for a while.
"I'll see you in the morning," Ducky said sadly before gathering his hat, coat and umbrella. He threw an accusing look at Gibbs for his silence and lack of support, then sighed deeply and left the room.
Several moments passed in silence before Tony's head lifted up from the pillow.
"Boss?"
"Still here, Tony, it's late - go to sleep," he said, taking up his position in the chair and placing his hand on Tony's shoulder as the younger man settled down to sleep.
The need of support was not voiced nor was it verbally answered, and yet the feeling was exchanged and it brought comfort to them both
00—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-00
Morning arrived and Tony stirred restlessly as the pounding of his relentless headache and the sharp twinge of overly tense muscles urged him from sleep. With his eyes still closed, he lay still for a moment, trying to isolate and recognise the many muted sounds of the busy hospital outside his door…the rattle of the passing hospital gurneys; the soft ding of someone's call button registering at the nurses' station; the sound of a ringing phone. It was another sound - nearer and more familiar - that caught his attention. He frowned in concentration and cocked his head slightly to listen closely but the sound disappeared.
The hand that had grounded him since the explosion suddenly started to freak him out as it moved tenderly up and down his forearm. It was then he realised the strong, callused fingers were gone, replaced by slender, gentle hands. The familiar noise sounded again and he managed the tiniest of grins as he recognised the sound of Caf-Pow being slurped through a straw.
"Abs," he said softly.
"Tony! You're awake!" Abby whispered. " I didn't wake you did I? Cos Gibbs will kill me. The last thing he said as he walked out the door was "Abs, he needs his rest, don't wake him!" she said in a growled voice.
"You didn't wake me and Gibbs would never kill you," Tony said around a jaw-cracking yawn. "Where is he?"
"I sent him home to shower. He's been here since you were brought in and he's…well…a little…"
"Ripe?" Tony answered.
"You noticed too, huh?"
"The lights have gone out but I can still smell, Abs," Tony replied, sharper than he intended. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that."
"I know," Abby replied and kissed him quickly on the cheek. "I brought you something that might help pass the time."
She opened his hand, placed his IPod across his palm and curled his fingers around it. I found it in your desk draw and thought you might like to listen to Ol' Blue Eyes."
"Gibbs?"
"No, Sinatra, silly!" Abby said, thrilled to see a tiny glimpse of Tony's sense of humour.
"Thanks, Abs," he said softly.
"Can I get you anything? How 'bout some water? The nurse brought your breakfast, are you hungry?"
"No."
Abby lifted the cover from the breakfast dishes. "Eww…I don't blame you, that looks like it belongs in my lab in a Petrie dish. I can call McGee and ask him to pick up a couple of breakfast burritos? I know you love those, or maybe some pancakes and a hazelnut latte? Or …"
"Abs," Tony said, desolately. "I don't want anything."
"Nothing?" she replied, desperate to help her friend.
"I could use…" He took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "I guess…I could probably use a hug."
Without hesitation Abby perched herself on the bed and pulled him to her with one arm, while the other rubbed soothing strokes along his tense back. He nuzzled his face into the juncture of her neck and shoulder and she felt the warm huffs of his breath on her neck as he relished the overwhelming comfort of her unconditional friendship and love.
"You never have to ask for one of these," she said, surprising herself with the strength and calmness of her voice. "I'm here, Tony, whenever you need me - I'm here."
He pulled out of the hug, leaned back against the pillows and sighed. "They tell you about the blind centre?"
"Ducky told me."
"You think I should go?"
She took both of his hands in hers, intertwining their fingers.
"Since I started working with Mortimer and helping to train guide dogs, I've met some of the most amazing sightless people who all live wonderful, independent lives and they all went to reorientation centres."
"Yeah but Abs, those people are permanently blind, Colby said that my sight could return at any time!"
"Aw, Tony, what if it doesn't," she said softly but firmly.
"It will."
"Tony…"
"It will, Abs! It has to, I can't live like this!" he said with equal amounts of desperation and determination.
"You don't have to live like this, Tony, that's what the blind centre is all about! You'll learn new skills, like reading and writing and moving around independently and we'll all come and visit you and, who knows, maybe one day you'll have a service dog like Mortimer."
"I don't want a damn dog, Abs, I want my freaking sight back!"
She pulled him in for another firm hug. "I know you do - we all want that for you."
"I can't do it, Abs. Saying I'll go to the centre is like giving up hope that I'll ever see again. I can't do that - it's...it's all I have left."
She broke the hug and placed both hands firmly on either side of his face, feeling the stubble of a few days growth beneath her fingers.
"You listen to me, mister," she said firmly. "We're family and as long as we're around…you'll always have us."
00—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-00
Palmer exited the elevator on the operations room level and walked toward the bullpen when he spotted McGee at his desk.
"Hey, McGee," he said cheerfully.
"Morning, Palmer," McGee replied. "I was just headed down to see Ducky and get an update on Tony."
"Oh, Doctor Mallard isn't in. Jordan, I mean, Doctor Hampton is filling in for a few days so Doctor Mallard can help with Tony."
"Do you know how he's doing?"
"Doctor Mallard?"
"No, Jimmy – Tony!" McGee answered impatiently.
"Oh," Jimmy said with a self-effacing shake of the head. "Doctor Mallard said that Tony is still suffering from the effects of the concussion and has very bad headaches. The doctors are treating him with anti-inflammatory meds and strong painkillers that make him sleep a lot of the time. All being well, he may be released from hospital in a couple of days."
"That soon? I'd have thought he'd be there a lot longer."
"When someone loses their sight, even temporarily, it's often the best course to get them out of hospital and into a transitional centre as soon as possible."
"He's not gonna like that," McGee said.
"Not at all," Jimmy agreed. "So…have you, er, seen him yet?"
"No, not yet. To tell you the truth, I feel kinda bad...I've kinda been putting it off."
"I know what you mean. Doctor Mallard said Tony's extremely distressed and won't even consider entering the blind centre."
"That's exactly why I haven't seen him yet. Tony's always so 'up', ya know? Rarely lets life, or the job, get him down…I guess I'm not sure I'll know what to say to him," McGee replied. "Whenever he's been laid up before, I brought him some magazines or DVD's – I haven't got a clue what to do for him this time."
"I think I have an idea that may cheer him up," Jimmy said thoughtfully, stroking his imaginary beard. "If you give me a hand to arrange it, we can go see him tomorrow."
"You think he'll like it?"
"Well…put it this way…he'll either love it or he'll kill us!"
00—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-00
Ziva's doctors were pleased that her broken arm had begun to heal so well and she had passed her follow-up examination with flying colours. She hadn't intended to make the side trip but, inexplicably, she made her way to the nurse's station on Tony's ward. She definitely hadn't expected the nurse to tell her that Tony was currently alone - yet, suddenly, she found herself standing in the corridor outside his room. She silently opened the door and edged just inside finding the curtains drawn and the room in darkness.
The bed head was raised and he was sleeping with his head lolled to one side, his lips slightly parted and frown lines indicating a headache had followed him into sleep. She was relieved his eyes were closed - she couldn't bear to see those expression-filled eyes looking sightlessly at her.
"Oh God, Tony," she whispered, then placed her fingers to her mouth when a strangled sob escaped and the sound caused him to shift in his sleep. He frowned again and turned his head in her direction.
"Ziva?" he called softly.
She stood completely still, scarcely breathing, and waited until he settled into sleep again. She wasn't ready for this – what could she possibly say to him that could accurately measure the depth of her regret? Would he even listen, knowing that she had been responsible for his blindness?
She silently opened the door a few inches and backed her way out, then closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the wooden panels.
"I am sorry, Tony," she whispered again as she took a shuddering breath.
"You tell him that?"
She spun quickly at the sound of the voice and her eyes met an icy blue glare.
"Gibbs! I…I came to see Tony…to explain…but he is sleeping."
"Kinda like to hear that explanation myself, Ziva," Gibbs replied, coldly. "Wait here."
He quietly looked in on Tony and confirmed that the younger man was still sleeping. Placing the freshly purchased coffee and pizza on Tony's bedside table, he closed the door behind him and turned to Ziva.
"This way," he said curtly and directed her to the empty staff lounge where he closed the door and turned to her. "Why did you go back into that house?"
"I went back in to disarm the bomb," she said.
"Why?"
"Because it is what I am trained to do! You have asked me to do so in the past, I did not see the difference!"
"This time, Ziva, the bomb wasn't in a crowded plaza or wasn't about to destroy crucial evidence. The perp was dead, the situation had been contained and no one was in danger."
Using years of Mossad conditioning she forcibly pushed her feelings of guilt and remorse aside as she tried to explain her actions.
"Gibbs, please believe me, I did not know that Tony would come back inside the house," she said.
Gibbs huffed a humourless laugh.
"He's been your partner for four years, Ziva! Why the hell didn't you know?"
Without wavering an inch from his icy decorum, Gibbs, impaled her with the intensity of his glare.
"He followed you back into the warehouse when you disarmed Sharif's bomb, he stood by your side in the plaza when you defused another and he allowed himself to be captured by a damn terrorist cell in Somalia to avenge what he thought was your death. Why the hell didn't you know that he'd follow you into the house!"
"Gibbs, I…" Her words suddenly failed her as she saw the barely contained anger in his eyes.
"He's loyal as a damn Saint Bernard, Ziva," Gibbs said resignedly. "What's it gonna take for you to realise that?"
"I…I don't…" she stammered, completely unprepared for the disconcerting calmness of his voice and the coldness in his eyes.
"I need to get back to Tony," he said flatly. "You can expect a call from Vance. An agent was seriously injured - there'll be an inquiry."
"I understand."
"That makes one of us, Ziva," Gibbs said coldly. "Cos I sure as hell don't."
Then he turned abruptly and returned to Tony's room.
00—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—00