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 Twelve

Gibbs opened the door of Tony's apartment to a breathless McGee.

"What do you got?" he asked.

"We've got agents posted in the lobby and in the resident's parking," McGee said. "No one gets in or out without identification and without being signed in by a resident."

"What about the crime scene?"

"I spoke to several of the witnesses, Boss, the good news is that the majority of the witness accounts appear to agree for a change," McGee replied. "The truck was double-parked approximately halfway down the block, no one got in or out and the engine was running the whole time. Certainly looks like the driver was laying in wait for you and Tony."

McGee sneaked a quick peek around his Boss and saw Tony, wrapped in a blanket and being fussed over by Ducky.

"BOLO?" Gibbs asked.

"Truck had no licence plates. We know that it was a late model, dark blue, Ford F-150, but no confirmation on the model. The F-150 series releases nine models each year," the young agent replied. "I checked with DMV and in the tri-state area alone there were 12,000 dark blue F-150's registered last year. No reports of any stolen in the last two days."

"Stay on it."

"How's he doing, Boss? Is it true that Tony pushed you out of the way of the truck?"

"You know, I can hear you, right Probie?" Tony asked.

"Sorry, Tony," McGee said walking to stand beside Tony's chair and placing a hand on the older man's shoulder to let him know he was there. "I just…how did you do it? How did you know to get out of the way of the truck?"

"Well, Probilicious, it's like this - you work with Gibbs long enough and his 'spidey sense' starts to rub-off on you."

"He heard the truck accelerating," Gibbs added flatly.

"And…I heard the truck accelerating," Tony admitted.

"Well it's lucky for both of you that he did, or I'd be treating you in a more formal capacity in my Morgue!" Ducky said firmly as he dabbed a cotton ball soaked in antiseptic on Tony's grazed arms.

"Ow, Ducky! Keep that up and you still might - that stuff kills!"

"Now, Anthony, please sit still, I'm almost finished," Ducky said, in a slightly patronising voice.

"Ow! Did they teach you at Eton that torture is not part of the Hippocratic Oath," Tony moaned.

"Tell me, Anthony, why is it that you make less noise over a broken arm or a bullet wound than you do over grazed elbows?" Ducky asked.

Tony's cheeky grin was his only reply.

"I need coffee," Gibbs moaned, walking toward the kitchen. "McGee?"

"Coffee would be nice, Boss, thanks," McGee said, before realising the look of impatience on the lead agent's face. "Oh…you want me to…coming, Boss."

Following Gibbs to the kitchen, McGee watched as he poured himself a cup of coffee and reached for the tea caddy, placing the appropriate measure into the pot for Tony and Ducky.

"I need you to go back to the office and check the type of car registered to Harry Turner."

"Seaman Turner's father? I heard he'd threatened you when the jury found his son guilty," McGee replied. "You think he tried to kill you?"

"My gut tells me he hasn't got it in him but whoever it was, damn-near killed Tony as well. I'm not prepared to take any chances. Check him out and let me know."

"Yes, Boss. You want me to check on the list of people with grudges against Tony?"

"You still got that list?"

"Are you kidding? The number of times we've had to use it, I practically know it by heart."

"You'll find a similar list for me in a folder in the back of my filing cabinet. Check 'em out. I'll have Vance assign someone to help you."

"On it, Boss. You...er...want me to talk to Abby?"

"Aw damn!" Gibbs cursed softly, realising he'd forgotten to let Abby know. "Tell her we're fine and I'll call her in the morning."

"Sure," McGee said. He headed for the door and then hesitated and turned back to the lead agent. "Not that I mind, but why haven't I got a list of people with grudges against me or who'd like to see me dead?"

"Well, hell, you're just not trying hard enough, McGee!" Gibbs quipped. "Go!"

McGee said his goodnights and headed back to the Navy yard.

Gibbs brought three steaming mugs into the living room. Ducky had stopped his ministrations over Tony and took a long sip of the hot tea.

"Ah…nothing like a strong cup of tea for whatever ails you, I always say," the ME enthused. "Did you know that, although it is known as a quintessential English drink, tea is a relative latecomer to British shores. Although the custom of drinking tea dates back to the third millennium BC in China, it was not until the mid 17th century that the beverage first appeared in England..."

Tony let the one-sided conversation flow around him as Ducky's cultured voice lulled him closer to sleep. The adrenalin that rushed his system on the street had dissipated, leaving him feeling exhausted. His eyelids were already starting to drop when Gibbs reached forward and took the dangerously tilting mug from his fingers.

"DiNozzo," he said softly, placing his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Bed."

"Sending me to bed without dinner, Boss?" Tony asked sleepily. "It's only…"

Tony reached for his watch and felt the shattered crystal beneath his fingers - he realised it must have been damaged when he leapt to the kerb. The bitter disappointment that flittered across his too pale features tore at Ducky's kind heart.

"Ducky…I broke it…"

Ducky moved closer, gently removing the watch from Tony's wrist.

"It's still keeping good time," the ME said. "I believe only the crystal will need to be replaced. Not to fret, lad, I'll have that arranged for you tomorrow."

"I'm sorry, Ducky, I didn't know."

"Nonsense, my boy," Ducky said, placing his warm hand over Tony's. "A watch crystal is replaceable – you, my young friend, are not."

Tony's face flushed at the ME's kind words and he was rendered momentarily speechless. Recognising Tony's dilemma, Gibbs stepped in.

"Come on," he groaned, taking most of Tony's weight as they staggered toward the bedroom.

"I can do it, Boss!" Tony growled in a tired and irritable manner.

He broke free from Gibbs' grasp, turned quickly and walked straight into the wall, his face flushing with embarrassment once more.

"You wanna get in that way, DiNozzo, ya gonna have to hit that wall a lot harder, ya didn't even make a dent," he said steering Tony's shoulders in the right direction. "Meantime, try using the door."

"Funny, Boss," Tony said with a wan smile.

"Go, I'll call you for supper," Gibbs said.

"I haven't been put to bed this early since I was 7 years old and my mother drank my sea monkeys," Tony muttered. "Night, Ducky."

"Sleep well, my boy, I'll call in on you tomorrow evening, hmm?"

Tony felt his way into his room and placed his hand to the end of his bed. He rolled his eyes as he found his sweatpants, t-shirt and a clean pair of boxers already laid out and waiting for him. He made his way into the bathroom and said a silent thankyou to Steve when he realised how much easier it was to put the toothpaste on his toothbrush if he held the brush by its bristles. After cleaning his teeth and "taking care of business," he took his afternoon meds, noticing that Gibbs had exchanged the glass for a plastic cup.

He changed his clothes and practically fell into bed, relieved that this day was over. He relaxed listening to the muffled sounds of Gibbs and Ducky speaking in the living room and finally allowed his exhaustion to lead him into sleep.

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Feeling the situation called for something a little stronger than tea and coffee, Gibbs poured two glasses of pure malt scotch from the decanter in Tony's liquor cabinet and handed one to Ducky.

He nodded his head toward Tony's closed bedroom door. "He really okay, Duck?"

"Oh, he'll be fine, Jethro," Ducky assured him. "The grazes on his arms are only superficial, despite his melodramatic whining and moaning, and he suffered some bruising to his hip and back…"

"But?"

"His blood pressure is quite high – by Anthony's standards – and although he tried valiantly to hide it, it took a considerable amount of time for his hands to stop trembling."

"Shock."

"I should think so, - you know how frightening that experience was as a sighted person, can you image the terror Anthony experienced?"

"Seems okay now."

"Well of course he does! That young man would walk with two broken legs if he thought that's what you expected! A good night's sleep should see him right for the morning…now, my friend, how about you?"

"I'm fine, Duck."

Ducky shook his head and chuckled as Gibbs unknowing repeated the exact words Tony had used.

"Do you think the maniac driving that vehicle was after you or our Anthony?"

"Truck came at us from my side, Duck, not Tony's but you're right, it could have killed us both."

"This was not your fault, Jethro," Ducky said firmly.

"I know," he said quietly, wrestling his self-recrimination into submission.

"Now then, what do you want to do about this birthday dinner tomorrow?"

"Someone out there is trying to kill us and you want to have a party?"

"Well…it sounds rather insensitive when you say it like that!" Ducky said indignantly.

"Ya think?"

"Not a party as such, more a dinner with…"

"With gifts and cake, Abby told me," Gibbs said. "He's still working on his eating skills, Duck, gaining his confidence - I don't want him embarrassed."

"Anthony will be among friends, Jethro, there will be no need for embarrassment."

"Easy for us to say, we're not the one tipping dinner into our lap."

"Pizza!" Ducky exclaimed. "We can all pick it up with our fingers and Anthony should manage quite well."

"He has more scans tomorrow - may not be up for company."

"We're more than company, Jethro, right now we're all the family that boy has. I take it Anthony did not contact his father?"

"Asked him if he wanted me to call – he said no."

"Oh dear, I assume he doesn't want his father to see him at a disadvantage. All the more reason why a small dinner party would be just the ticket! It will let him know how fond we are of him!"

"There's still someone out there trying to kill us."

"You have to admit though, Jethro, with agents at every entrance we couldn't possibly choose a safer venue. Plus you and young Timothy will be right here with us."

"Don't discount, DiNozzo, Duck - he did good out there today – saved both our asses," he said with more than a modicum of pride, as his lips quirked into a smile.

"Discount DiNozzo?" Ducky questioned, his return smile just as proud as his friend's. "Heaven forbid, Jethro, Heaven forbid!"

The two friends clinked their glasses in silent toast of the courage and skill shown by the younger man, who proved that even in the face of adversity, he was still a force to be reckoned with.

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Once Ducky had left the apartment, Gibbs wandered to the bedroom to check on Tony. Peering into the darkness of the room he heard the soft snores of his agent. After the day they'd had, he would prefer to let the younger man sleep but Tony's night meds were due and he needed something in his stomach. Gibbs wandered back to the kitchen to start a light supper of toasted sandwiches, knowing they wouldn't cause Tony too much difficulty.

His cell rang and he squinted at the caller ID.

"Watcha got McGee?"

"Boss, I checked DMV records for Seaman Turner's father, Harry. The vehicle registered in his name is a 2000 model, white Ford Focus sedan. But I decided to check on Seaman Turner's vehicle. It's a…"

"Late model, dark blue, Ford F-150," Gibbs finished.

"And it's registered at his parents address."

"Go, McGee, make sure you have back-up and bring him in for questioning," Gibbs said. "Let me know when you're back at the Navy yard."

"On it, Boss."

"And, McGee…good job." He snapped the cell closed, cutting the connection.

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He placed the toasted sandwiches on the dining table and quietly walked into the darkness of Tony's room. He gently and carefully shook the younger man awake – gently, so as not to startle him, and carefully because experience had taught him that, when caught off guard, Tony often woke up swinging or brandishing a fully loaded Sig Sauer.

"Is it morning?" Tony asked, around a yawn.

Gibbs felt his chest tighten painfully as the innocuous words rammed the reality of Tony's blindness brutally down his throat. It wasn't that he was in denial about his agent's loss of vision but every time the younger man opened his eyes Gibbs prayed to whatever God was out there, that Tony's vision had returned.

He quashed his disappointment and cleared his throat before replying.

"Dinner's on the table," he said softly. "Go wash up."

Still pale and with eyes rimmed by dark circles, Tony gingerly made his way to the table several moments later. Clean-shaven and with his hair tousled he looked much younger than his years.

"Smells good," Tony said, his stomach agreeing loudly.

"Take your best shot," Gibbs said, encouraging Tony to use his other senses. The younger man accepted the challenge and inhaled deeply.

"Toast…grilled cheese…and coffee, right?"

"Not bad, DiNozzo - toasted ham and cheese and coffee."

"Ooh, so close!" Tony replied taking his seat at the table.

"Wanna pour the coffee?"

"Sure."

"Pot's ten inches to your 2 o'clock."

Tony held out his left hand and Gibbs placed a mug into his palm. Adjusting his grip as Ducky had shown him, he poured both cups and replaced the pot on the table.

They ate in companionable silence, Gibbs noticing that although Tony's appetite was improving, it wasn't a patch on the voraciousness he usually exhibited. 'Small steps' he told himself. He frowned as he watched Tony rubbing his temples in a small circular motion with his long fingers.

"Another headache?"

"I'm fine, Boss."

"Not what I asked."

"There was something about that truck today that's been bugging the hell outta me."

"You mean beside the fact it nearly killed us?"

"Yeah," Tony smiled wanly. "Beside that."

"What's on your mind?"

"That's just it, I don't know!" Tony said, the frustration evident in his voice and on his face. "There was something…I just can't put my finger on it."

"You know someone who drives a truck like that?" Gibbs asked.

"No…but I was wondering why anyone would try to kill me using their own truck –it's a little obvious, don't ya think?"

"Was thinking the same thing but we still gotta check it out. You think they were trying to kill you, Tony?"

"Aren't they always, Boss?" Came the glib reply.

"Came at us from my side, could have been me they were after," Gibbs stated. "I've pissed off more than my share of people over the years."

"You got that right, Boss!" Tony replied emphatically and then backtracked quickly. "I mean…we both have, right…that comes with the job."

"Now, answer my question," Gibbs said, noticing the temple rubbing hadn't stopped.

"Question?" Tony said innocently.

Gibbs smiled and shook his head – subject change had always been an effective avoidance technique of Tony's but Gibbs knew him far too well to fall for it.

"Do you have another headache?"

Tony rolled his eyes and gave a quick grin as he realised his Boss was on to his ruse and there was no way out.

"Yes," he replied reluctantly.

"You worried about the scans tomorrow?"

Tony's wordless shrug and the way he averted his face spoke volumes.

"I know it seems like a lifetime to you but it's only been a week. It'll happen when it happens," Gibbs said, squeezing the younger man's shoulder. He opened Tony's hand and placed the pills in his palm. "Take 'em and hit the rack, you gotta big day tomorrow."

"I do?"

"Your hospital appointment and a birthday dinner." He silenced Tony's objection with another squeeze to his shoulder. "I know, but Abby's excited, she'll be disappointed if you say no – besides, they're bringing your favourite pepperoni and sausage pizza."

"Extra cheese?"

"Extra cheese - go hit the rack."

Gibbs watched Tony cautiously ease his way around the living room furniture back to his room. He still had his reservations about the dinner but he recalled how a few stolen hours in the park with Palmer and McGee had lifted Tony's spirits - he was hopeful the dinner would have the same result.

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With Tony sleeping again, Gibbs returned to his project, meticulously carving and polishing and hoping to have it completed for what Abby was calling Tony's birthday not-party.

He frowned at the disturbance caused by his ringing cell and checked the caller ID.

"You got something, McGee?" he asked, dispensing with pleasantries.

"Yes, Boss," McGee replied. "When Harris and I arrived at the Turner home, Turner's white Ford Focus was still in the drive but no one answered the door. Their dog was inside the house, barking as if distressed so we forced the door open."

"What was it?"

"I'm not really sure, it was a mangy little yappy thing," McGee replied.

"Not the dog, McGee, what was it barking at?"

"Oh...of course...sorry, Boss. We found Mrs Turner unconscious on the floor. EMT's took her to Sibley Memorial – I sent Harris with the ambulance. Looks pretty bad."

"Anyone hear anything?"

"Neighbours say they heard shouting and crying coming from the house this morning and saw Turner leave in his son's Ford F-150."

"Nobody, bothered to call the cops or check on the wife?" Gibbs asked.

"No, seems it's a regular occurrence – Turner Senior's an alcoholic and wife beater. Neighbours said it was a matter of time before he put her in hospital again."

"Any hits on the BOLO for the truck?"

"Not yet but I've just arrived back at the office now, I'll do a credit search, maybe we'll get lucky and he'll use his bank accounts."

"Turner may be a wife beater and our best lead but it doesn't make him guilty of trying to kill DiNozzo or me. I'll call Vance and get you a team - I want someone checking the names on Tony's list and mine, just in case."

"You want me...you want me to lead a team, Boss?" McGee asked in surprise.

"You up to it, McGee?"

"Absolutely...that is...I'll do my best, Boss," McGee said earnestly.

"I know," Gibbs replied. "And McGee, keep running the licence registrations for the dark blue Ford F-150's. I want to know if any have connections to me or DiNozzo, no matter how thin."

"All 12,000, Boss?"

"McGee!"

"Checking all 12,000, gotcha, Boss."

The door of the bedroom swung open and Tony walked drunkenly from the room, white as a sheet and sightless eyes wide with excitement.

"Boss!"

"DiNozzo! What the hell?" Cell phone still in his hand, Gibbs was quickly to his feet, taking Tony's arm to support the younger man as he staggered.

"I thought you were sleeping?"

"I am… or… I was…Boss, I remembered!" he said, more asleep than awake. "That thing about the truck – I need to talk to McGee."

Gibbs thrust the cell into Tony's hand, watching the younger man's face reflect his confusion as he brought the cell to his ear.

"Who's this?" Tony asked warily.

"Tony, it's me, is everything okay?" Came the concerned reply.

Tony's mouth dropped open as he recognised McGee's voice. He held the cell away from his mouth and turned to Gibbs at his side. "You're good, Boss!" he said in mock awe and then turned his attention back to the cell. "I'm fine, Probie, I just remembered something about the truck, something that's been bugging me?"

"You mean beside the fact it nearly killed you?" McGee asked wryly.

Tony held the cell away from his mouth again. "Why do I keep walking in to that?" he asked no one in particular.

Resuming his phone conversation he huffed. "Yes, McGoo, beside that."

"Okay, I'm listening, what have you got?"

"The truck had one of those after-market, high performance exhaust systems added that produce a low throaty sound – you know, the kind you'd get from a long straight pipe muffler with a baffled channel, lined in fibreglass…what am I saying, you have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

"Well, not no idea," McGee replied indignantly and then added. "Just…not much of one."

"Well here's the thing…these custom built exhaust systems generally have a three foot hot-dog resonator with dual rear exhaust pipes, which would mean the noise would resonate from the back, right?"

"Right!" McGee said, wishing he'd paid more attention in Autoshop.

"But when the truck went passed us, the engine noise was coming from the side! That means this truck had to have a dual side cat-back system. Are you writing this down Probie, 'cause it could be important."

"Yes, I'm writing it down…cat not dog…why is this important again?"

Tony huffed in exasperation. "Because, Probie, the majority of these custom fitted trucks have rear exhaust systems. The list of this type of truck with side fitted exhaust systems should narrow the search by about 80 to 90 percent."

"Tony, that's great! You just saved us a ton of work," McGee said. "I'll get right on it just as soon as I…"

"Have Abby explain it to you again?"

"No!…Okay, yes…I'll let you know when we have something. Thanks." McGee said, cutting the connection.

Tony staggered, leaning heavily against Gibbs.

"Boss," he mumbled, no longer able to shake off the effects of the painkiller. "My work here is done…I gotta go back to bed."

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