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 Seven
With the Turner trial reconvening and Gibbs required to be in attendance for the jury's verdict, Ducky had taken up residence in the visitor's chair beside Tony's bed at 0700. For the first time since he had met the gregarious, young ex-detective, the conversation was minimal, stilted and forced.
Tony struggled through his breakfast, coolly refusing any assistance from Ducky and intent on showing the ME he was capable of doing for himself. He eventually settled for a piece of cold, soggy toast, knowing that he could manage it easily.
With the breakfast tray removed, Tony had turned to his IPod to avoid further discussion about the reorientation centre. Though Ducky understood that Tony was still reeling from the devastating loss of his sight - he couldn't help but feel rebuffed.
At 0825, Ducky tapped gently on Tony's arm and tried to ignore the expression of irritation and apprehension that reflected on the younger man's face as he removed his ear buds.
"Anthony, the orderly will be here shortly to take you for more scans," Ducky said. "I need to go to the office to sign some reports, however, young Timothy has assured me that he will be here when you get back and will stay until Jethro returns from court."
"Fine," Tony said with an indifferent shrug.
Recalling the distress and disorientation Tony experienced when he had the initial scans, Ducky added.
"If you would rather I stay with you while you have your tests, I'm more than happy to alter my plans," he added.
"I'm fine, Ducky, I can manage by myself. I don't need someone fussing over me every minute of the day," Tony replied in an irritated tone.
He replaced his ear buds and returned to his music as Ducky despondently resumed his seat.
The orderly arrived, moments later, and assisted Tony into the wheelchair.
"I'll see you later, my boy," Ducky said softly and watched as Tony was wheeled out of the room and down the corridor.
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"Special Agent David, thanks for coming in. Take a seat," Vance said.
"If you do not mind, Director, I would prefer to stand."
"Take a seat," Vance replied firmly, unwilling to relinquish the psychological advantage. "Your medical report says your arm is healing well."
"Yes, thank you."
"The doctor's have recommended another week's leave before you resume light duties," Vance read from the file.
"That is correct."
"Approved," he said, signing his name at the bottom of the page. He closed the medical file and replaced it with another, flipping it open and shuffling documents before making eye contact with her.
"Tell me what happened after you and McGee took the shots that brought down Petty Officer Briggs," he said.
"I am sure you have read my written report, Director."
"Indulge me!"
"Once we had established that Petty Officer Briggs was dead, Special Agent DiNozzo instructed McGee to move the vehicles away from the house and to call Doctor Mallard to collect the body," Ziva summarized with no inflection in her voice.
"And then?"
"Tony…Special Agent DiNozzo asked me to go to the back of the building and ensure that agents Farrell and Preston stayed clear of the house."
"He asked you?" Vance questioned. "He said 'Hey Ziva, how 'bout running round the back of the building and asking Farrell and Preston to stay clear of the house?'"
Ziva shifted her weight uncomfortably in the chair. "No, Director, he did not ask like that."
"So, what was it, David? A request? A favour? An enquiry?"
"It was more of a direction," Ziva replied stiffly.
"A direction from a senior agent would make it an order, would it not?"
Ziva returned Vance's unflinching glare.
"Let's move on. Was there anything that Special Agent DiNozzo did or said that made you believe that you were not included in his direction?"
"No, Director, there was not."
"In fact, according to the transcript, DiNozzo's exact words were 'I want everyone well away from that house until after the bomb squad clears it!' Were these words not clear to you, Special Agent David?"
"They were very clear."
"And yet you, a probationary agent, chose to ignore them and in doing so, defied the order of a senior agent in critical situation," Vance exhaled loudly and met Ziva's gaze once again. "I am aware that things between you and DiNozzo have been tense since your return from Somalia but I was assured, by both of you, that it would not interfere with your ability to work together."
"This had nothing to do with my time in Somalia!" Ziva answered curtly.
"Then tell me why?"
"When I left the front of the building to ensure Farrell and Preston were clear, I saw Special Agent DiNozzo entering the house. I have been trained by Mossad to disarm explosive ordnance, Tony has not!"
"Is that what this was? You thought you knew better? I'd have thought all those years with Mossad would have also taught you to follow orders," Vance said gruffly. "Yet when DiNozzo specifically told you, and I quote, 'I gave you an order. Get the hell outta there!' you told him to stop distracting you."
"I almost had the device disarmed. When I realised I did not have enough time to do so, I left the building immediately. I was unaware that Special Agent DiNozzo had re-entered the house."
"He re-entered the house to drag your ass out of there!"
"Yes," Ziva said softly, averting her eyes to the hands she clasped tightly in her lap.
"As you are no doubt aware, Agent David, the chain of command is in place for a reason," Vance said firmly. "It is no less important here at NCIS than it was at Mossad. You knew it and you ignored it and as a direct result of your insubordination, I have an agent in hospital who may have permanently lost his sight!"
Ziva lifted her head and met the director's gaze head on.
"I'm placing a formal reprimand in your file and, effective immediately, you can consider yourself on suspension." Vance said. "The suspension will run concurrently with your medical leave. Whether or not your probationary status is terminated will depend on a later discussion with Special Agents Gibbs and DiNozzo, when DiNozzo's feeling up to it."
Vance rose to his feet. "I'll need your firearms and your badge."
Ziva removed the gun from her hip holster and the other from her ankle holster and placed them on Vance's desk with her badge.
"That will be all," he said and watched as the Israeli pivoted and walked out of the office.
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Just like the first time he'd had the MRI and CT scans, the injection of the contrast agent exacerbated his nausea and dizziness, leaving him exhausted and craving sleep. As the orderly assisted him back into his bed, he vaguely heard McGee greet him, telling him to get some rest.
He woke again to darkness and cursed that his loss of vision and the significant amount of time he spent in a drug-induced sleep, made it extremely difficult to keep track of time. He felt his face flush with embarrassment when he realized how bereft he felt not to have the comforting hand on his shoulder or arm when he woke. He recalled that McGee had been in his room when he'd returned from having the scans.
"Probie?" he called softy, sighing when silence was the only reply.
'Get a grip, Anthony,' he thought. 'What's the big deal? You can do this!'
Not bothering to open his eyes, he lay quietly, recalling his heated discussion with Ducky about the reorientation centre. He knew that Ducky meant well but he was tired of others making life-changing choices on his behalf. He had to believe his sight would return, sooner rather than later, yet each time he opened his eyes to the inky blackness, his hopes were crushed again and he drifted further into a world of despair.
A loud crash expelled him abruptly from his brooding, as something banged into the wall outside his room. He turned his head toward the sound as two familiar voices filtered through the closed door.
"Shhhh! Tony's sleeping, Palmer! You want to scare him to death? Be careful!."
"I'm trying!" Jimmy replied. "This wheelchair has a mind of it's own."
"So…you got it?"
"I got it," Palmer replied.
"And it's all arranged?"
"It's all arranged."
"Okay, let's do it - just remember what Ducky said, don't fuss over him and don't overwhelm him."
"Hey, McGee, you may be the federal agent but I'm the med student. Of course I won't overwhelm him - I'll just be myself."
"That's where this plan may come undone," McGee drawled sceptically.
"What's wrong with me being myself?" Jimmy asked with a hint of indignation. "Tony likes me."
"You can be yourself," McGee acquiesced. "Just try to be a little less yourself than usual. Okay?"
With his eyes still closed, Tony couldn't help the hint of a smile from appearing on his face and, as he listened to the comedy team of Palmer and McGee, he wondered what on earth they were up to. He feigned sleep as he heard the door open and the two younger men enter but he couldn't prevent the startled jerk at the loud collision between wheelchair and rollaway table.
"What the hell's wrong with you?" McGee admonished in a hushed voice. "Did you take an awkward pill or something?"
"No," Jimmy answered innocently. "I've always been like this."
"Like poetry in motion, Palmer," Tony's voice said softly.
"Tony! We didn't wake you, did we?"
"It's fine, Jimmy," Tony said, shifting to sit up a little in the bed. "What's up, guys?"
"No questions, there's no time to explain - all will be revealed in good time. You're gonna need to put these on," McGee said, placing a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt into Tony's hands.
"They're mine?"
"They're yours - I cracked the combination on your locker," McGee said smugly.
"You cracked my combo?" Tony repeated.
"Come on, Tony, it wasn't rocket science – 36 – 22 – 34."
"Pamela Anderson?" Jimmy guessed.
"Nope, Carmen Electra," Tony answered with a halfway genuine grin and a low, throaty purr.
"Nice choice!" Jimmy replied with an enthusiastic nod.
Suddenly Tony's grin disappeared. "Wait, if you were in my locker, then you would have seen…"
"Yep, saw it," McGee confirmed.
"It's not mine," Tony said quickly. "It belongs to a friend, I just haven't returned it yet."
"Um, yeah…I kinda figured that when I saw the French lace and the double D cup. Come on, take my arm and haul your ass outta that bed, we're running out of time."
"Time for what?" he asked again allowing McGee to steady him.
"If you must know - Palmer and I are busting you outta here for an hour or so," McGee said, placing one hand on Tony's shoulder as he carefully lifted one foot and then the other and slipped the sweat pants over his pyjamas bottoms.
"What about Gibbs and the nurses?" Tony asked. "Do they know about this?"
"Know about what?" McGee replied innocently, glimpsing the first real smile he'd seen from Tony.
"It's all arranged, Tony," Palmer said. "I know the nurse on duty. She's studying to be a doctor and we have some of the same classes. I let Kristen borrow my class notes and she lets me…well, er, never mind what she lets me do."
"You know Kristen, Jimbo?" Tony asked. "She sounds hot!"
"She is hot!" McGee and Palmer answered simultaneously.
"Anyway, she's gonna cover for us," Palmer said, suddenly very serious. " Listen to me, Tony, I have your meds with me. If you start to feel nauseous or unwell or if this is too much for you – you need to tell me right away and we'll get you straight back here. Is that clear?"
Tony's reply of "Crystal clear, Doctor Palmer," was barely audible as he pulled the t-shirt over his head and McGee guided him to the wheelchair and helped him sit.
"Palmer, check that the coast is clear," McGee said.
Tony heard the door open and Palmer reply, "We are good to go!" then McGee pushed the chair out of the room and into the elevator. They pressed the button to the ground floor and guided the wheelchair through the lobby, stopping just before the door.
"Tony, you should put these on," Jimmy said, placing Tony's designer sunglasses in his hands. "I just want to make sure your eyes are fully protected."
Tony slipped the glasses on and McGee continued to guide the wheelchair, across the sidewalk, to the passenger side of the car that Palmer had illegally parked at the entrance. Opening the door of the car they helped Tony to stand and then eased him into the front passenger seat.
Tony's jaw dropped as he ran his hands over the upholstery and dashboard.
"Is this…?"
"Yep, this is your Mustang – the tops down, she's hand-washed, waxed and looking a million bucks, even if I do say so myself," Palmer grinned.
Tony swallowed around the lump in his throat then steeled his expression. He felt torn between the heartache of never being able to drive his much-loved car again and embarrassed by the care and kindness being shown by the younger men.
"Come on, Tony," McGee said ensuring his partner was buckled in safely. "We're burning daylight!"
Tony grinned, "You quoting the Duke, Probie?"
"Just this once, don't get used to it?" he replied. "Just sit back and relax!"
Tony listened as Palmer started the engine and McGee stowed the wheelchair and climbed into the back seat - twisting and curling his lanky frame in the limited space as the car pulled smoothly out of the hospital parking lot.
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The movement of the vehicle had proved to be more disorienting than Tony imagined and he leaned his head against the headrest to offset it. Palmer inserted a CD into the player and the sounds of Tony's favourite jazz musician, Miles Davis, filled the car.
After stopping to collect their pre-ordered lunch of pizza and sodas, they drove the five miles from Bethesda Hospital to Glen Echo Park and found a nice sunny spot by the banks of the Potomac.
Despite McGee and Palmer's earlier misgivings and Tony's earlier disheartened state, the conversation was easy and relaxed – although all three men stayed well away from the topic of Tony's sight, Ziva and the reorientation centre. Tony revelled in the feel of the hot sun on his face and the light summer breeze, blowing across the river and ruffling his hair.
With lunch eaten and Tony showing signs that his headache had returned, Palmer placed the meds in Tony's hand and watched him swallow them down. His depleted energy levels were rapidly dissipating as Palmer and McGee assisted him back into the car and he leaned his head back again, already fighting fatigue and the pull of the meds.
"Don't go to sleep yet," McGee said. "I don't fancy carrying you back to your room."
They resumed their positions in the vehicle for the return trip to the hospital when Palmer turned to McGee.
"Hey, McGee, would you mind keeping your legs on the other side of the car, you kicked me in the back all the way over here."
"Really? Well, here's an idea, Palmer. Why don't you get in the back and I'll drive?" McGee shot back.
"I'm 6 feet tall!"
"I'm nearly six two!"
"Ah, yes," Palmer said, smugly. "But I'm six feet tall and I have the keys."
"Well, I have a gun!" McGee countered.
"Ah…guys?" Tony said, wearily. "Not that I don't appreciate all this…but if you don't stop bickering, I'm gonna drive back."
"Start the car, Palmer!" McGee quipped as he manipulated his long legs into a semi-comfortable position and they headed back to Bethesda.
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Tony was almost boneless by the time they manoeuvred him from the car to the wheelchair and back inside the hospital. They took the elevator to Tony's floor, anxiously looking from right to left as they stealthily wheeled their sleeping hostage back toward his room.
A group of doctors exiting the staff lounge had McGee and Palmer quickly side-stepping into a large linen storeroom. They exchanged identical panicked looks when they realised that they had left the wheelchair in the corridor. Throwing the storeroom door open and shouldering each other out of the way, they hurriedly dragged the chair inside with them and came perilously close to pitching the slumbering senior field agent to the floor.
They leant with their backs to the door, chests heaving with exertion and adrenalin, until the sound of the doctor's voices faded into the distance. Surreptitiously, McGee opened the door and checked the corridor, noting it was clear both ways.
"Let's go!" he whispered to Palmer and, together, they recklessly pushed the wheelchair into the corridor and made a dash for Tony's room. Arriving at their destination, they closed the door to the darkened room behind them and laughed in relief at their close call. Regaining their breath, they crouched either side of the wheelchair to wake Tony.
"Why is it so dark in here?" McGee said to Palmer. "Get the light."
Before Palmer could move an inch, the room was flooded in light and the young men froze as they found themselves squinting through the brightness at the silhouetted figure of a man.
"Wanna tell me where the hell you've been?" A gruff, but all too recognisable, voice asked.
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