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 Fourteen
Reflexes kicking into gear, Gibbs launched himself at Tony, hitting him hard enough to knock him off his feet just as the unmistakable crack from a rifle was heard. The sliding glass door exploded into a million tiny crystals that rained down upon them. He was unable to control their descent and they hit the floor hard with Tony taking Gibbs' full weight. The bone-rattling jolt forced the air from Tony's lungs with a mighty 'oomph.'
He assessed their situation with one quick glance around the room. Palmer was laying six feet to the right, McGee had pulled Abby down with him and they were lying next to the couch while Ducky and Mrs Cantrell were on the floor in the dining area. All looked to be unhurt.
"Stay down!" he yelled.
Shifting his weight from the prone body beneath him, the lead agent quickly turned Tony onto his side. Tony's eyes were shut tightly as he gasped for breath, his pale face rapidly changing colour due to lack of oxygen and for a terrifying moment, Gibbs thought Tony had been hit. He ran his hands over Tony's upper torso and exhaled loudly when he confirmed that his agent had not been wounded.
Looking up he noticed that Palmer was crawling quickly on all fours to their position.
"Check him out and stay with him," Gibbs said, receiving a quick nod from Palmer.
Ignoring the pain in his knee, Gibbs ran at a crouch to the side of the now missing sliding door, flicking the lights off as he ran. He heard McGee already advising the agents downstairs that shots had been fired.
"Shot had to come from the roof of the building directly opposite," Gibbs said after a sweeping glance of the possible sniper vantage positions.
McGee passed the information to the agents outside then purposely blocked Gibbs' path as he ran for the door.
"I got this, Boss," McGee said.
"Step aside, McGee."
"Not this time," the young man replied firmly. "I saw that laser, too. Until Tony stepped in front of you, the laser was pointed at you. Stay with Tony, I can do this."
McGee sighed in frustration as Gibbs reached around him and opened the door. Reluctantly he stepped out of the lead agent's path.
"Go!" Gibbs said, noting the look of surprise and then pride that flittered across the younger man's face. "Watch your six."
"On it, Boss!" McGee said, running out the door.
"Lay back, Tony, everybody's fine. Just breathe slowly," Palmer's concerned voice drew Gibbs' attention from McGee's departing back. At Gibbs' questioning look Jimmy replied.
"I think he's just had the wind knocked out of him. He's dizzy and a bit disoriented," Jimmy said.
"Tony, did you hit your head?" Gibbs said worriedly.
Still concentrating on getting his breathing under control, Tony didn't reply.
"I checked for a head injury, Agent Gibbs," Jimmy said. "I think he's just dizzy because he's not getting enough air – he'll be fine in a few minutes."
Gibbs shepherded Ducky, Mrs Cantrell and Abby into the small, windowless hallway leading to the bedrooms and bathroom, then he and Palmer helped Tony. Until they knew the location of the shooter, he was making sure they stayed well clear of the windows.
"How are you feeling, Anthony?" Ducky asked.
"M'fine, Ducky," Tony mumbled.
"His pulse is racing but his breathing is returning to normal," Palmer answered.
Gibbs had taken a seat on the floor next to Abby, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close and placing a kiss on the top of her head.
"You okay, Abs?"
"I'm fine, Gibbs…well, not fine as in 'fine and dandy' because someone out there just shot at us and ruined Tony's birthday not-party but I'm fine as in not hurt – McGee pushed me to the floor," Abby said.
Several feet away Ducky and Mrs Cantrell both looked a little shaken.
"Ma'am, you sure you're not hurt?" Gibbs asked.
"I'm fine, Jethro," she assured him. "Good heavens, what a way to end a lovely evening. There's nothing like sniper fire to ruin a good evening, my Arthur used to say."
"Thank heavens Doctor Mallard was close enough to get you safely out of harms way," Jimmy said.
"Are you sure you're not hurt, Mrs Cantrell?" Abby asked. "I'm, like, totally sure that I'll be covered in bruises tomorrow and Gibbs nearly pummelled Tony into the floor."
"Got a bullet hole in ya, Abs?" Gibbs asked, justifying his and McGee's actions.
Ducky cleared his throat. "Yes, well, I must confess that, on this occasion, my own lightning fast reflexes were a little lacking. It was Mrs Cantrell who pushed me safely to the floor. Just what was that move, dear lady, some form of martial arts?"
"Oh good heavens no," Mrs Cantrell giggled. "That was a standard take down manoeuvre from my Greco-Roman Wrestling class that I take on Friday mornings."
"Wow! That's way cool!" Abby said. "African tribal dancing, Gymnastics for Geriatrics, advanced tap dancing and Greco-Roman wrestling. When I grow up, I want to be just like you…I don't suppose you bowl, too?"
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McGee had reported back over an hour ago that the shooter had cleared the area; he had policed his shells and left no sign of his presence. The building did not have security cameras fitted and despite an on-going search of the building opposite, it was likely the shooter was long gone.
Abby had extracted the bullet from the wall in the living room and bagged it for ballistics testing and identification and Palmer had given her a lift back to the Navy yard.
Mrs Cantrell had invited Ducky to her apartment for a nightcap leaving Gibbs, Tony and McGee in the apartment.
McGee flipped his cell closed and walked into the bedroom. Tony sat on his bed his expression leaving no doubts about his indignation as Gibbs packed him a bag.
"The building manager has arranged for a glazier to fix the window, Boss, and Harris and Kendall are waiting in the car downstairs to take you to your place," McGee said. "I'll escort you down and then go see if Abby has anything on the bullet."
Tony's arms were firmly crossed against his chest and his jaw was set stubbornly. He opened his mouth to speak when Gibbs cut him off.
"You're going, DiNozzo," the lead agent replied in a no-nonsense tone.
"Why your place? If the shooter's after you, wouldn't it make more sense for me to stay here and you to go?"
"Well, actually, Tony," McGee said. "While it's more than likely the boss was the intended target, we haven't confirmed that yet."
"Not helping, Probie!" Tony snapped.
"I'll…er…just wait in the living room," McGee said, making a hasty exit.
"I'm not leaving you alone," Gibbs said folding two pairs of jeans and several shirts into the bag.
"So you stay, too!"
"The gaping hole in your living room tells me that didn't work out too well before!"
Gibbs replied. "My place is easier to protect than yours."
"And your place has all kinds of stairs and furniture that I can trip over and break my neck!" Tony said churlishly. "I want to stay here!"
Gibbs threw Tony's sweats into the duffel and exhaled loudly.
"That's what's eating you? Hell, DiNozzo, you've been coming over to my house for nine years and I haven't bought a stick of furniture since I met you – you know my place like you know your own."
"But it's not my own is it? And once again I'm forced into something I don't wanna do because everybody else seems to know what's freaking best for me!"
"Soon as we get this guy, you can come back," Gibbs said firmly. "You ready to go."
"Does it matter?" Tony said peevishly, reluctantly taking Gibbs' guiding arm and allowing himself to be led from his apartment."
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After ensuring Gibbs and Tony made it safely to the car where agents Kendall and Harris were waiting, McGee drove back to the Navy yard.
Styrofoam coffee cup in hand, he walked into Abby's lab, placing a large Caf-Pow on her counter.
"What've you got, Abs," he said.
Abby raised an eyebrow and bit back a grin, remembering the ribbing McGee gave Tony for drinking coffee while he was acting team leader.
"The bullet I removed from Tony's living room wall was a 5.56x45mm, commonly used in M16 rifles," she said. "As you know, the M16 is the rifle of choice used by the US military forces but not exclusively so – any federal firearms licensed gun dealer would be able to sell you one."
"That's if you wanted to buy it legally."
"Right, otherwise if you know the right people, you could probably buy one on the streets."
"Abs, Turner and his father, Harry, both served in the military. Both would know how to handle a rifle. Did you run a check to see whether Harry Turner holds a gun licence?"
"Yep!" Abby replied, picking up her Caf-Pow and taking a long drink.
"And?" McGee asked.
Abby held up her index finger to silence him until she'd slaked her mighty thirty. McGee huffed his impatience but had no choice but to wait until the Goth scientist finished her drink.
"Ahhh, that's better! Sorry, McGee, but my mouth was drier than happy hour at the Betty Ford clinic!" Abby said, smacking her lips together. "Harold Turner has a firearms licence and according to ATF records, he owns an M16. There's no ballistics record on file but if you get me the weapon I can run it against the bullet that I took from Tony's wall."
"With the threats against the boss, we have enough for a warrant to search the Turner house for the weapon. He has more than likely got it with him but we just might turn up something else that will help us find him. Thanks, Abs," McGee said heading for the elevator.
"Wait, wait, McGee!" Abby called after him.
"Was there something else, Abs?"
"I'm worried about Tony," she said, chewing lightly on her lower lip. "Something wasn't right, he looked…I don't know…upset or something!"
"Someone nearly killed him, Abs, twice! Even though that seems to happen to Tony on a regular basis - being blind has to be terrifying for him."
"I'm talking about before the shooting, Timmy! Tony seemed really emotional and he never gets upset - never, ever, it's against the DiNozzo code!"
"There's a DiNozzo code?"
"You know, silly, DiNozzo's never pass out, DiNozzo's never date women that eat more than they do and…DiNozzo's never, ever cry!"
"Tony wasn't crying, Abs."
Abby rolled her eyes heavenward and punched McGee in the arm.
"I know he wasn't crying, McGee, but something was, like, totally wrong!"
"Look, Abs, this is a huge adjustment for Tony and it's gotta be hard for him," McGee said, rubbing the pain from his shoulder. "He's with Gibbs and if anyone can get him through this, Gibbs can."
"I guess," Abby said sadly.
"I gotta go get that warrant – go home, Abs, get some sleep!"
"Not so fast, Mister!" Abby called, stopping him in his tracks. "Get your skinny little booty back over here!"
"Abs?" McGee said, confused.
"You forgot something."
"I did?"
"You totally did."
When McGee still looked confused a moment later, Abby tilted her head and pointed to her cheek. McGee leaned in a planted a quick kiss on her porcelain cheek.
"Much better," she said, waving him away dismissively. "Go! Find bad men!"
As she watched him jog from the lab and press the call button for the elevator she smiled cheekily. "Girl's gotta get her sugar fix!"
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With the added tension of having to leave his home, the mild headache Tony had been suffering from since the shooting had escalated to a full-blown migraine. He was still getting used to car travel and the drive across town left him feeling light-headed and bilious.
It was almost midnight by the time they'd arrived at Gibbs' home. Agents Kendall and Harris diligently checked every room and the front and backyards before taking up positions outside the house.
There were three steps from the path to the front patio; another one at the front door and, across the living room, a narrow staircase with fourteen stairs and a small landing at the halfway point, led to the upstairs bedrooms. Gibbs was right; Tony had spent enough time in his home to be very familiar with the layout – but that was when he'd been sighted. Finding your way around someone else's home when you can't see was a new and frightening experience.
Gibbs led him into the spacious spare bedroom and unpacked his clothes into the first two drawers of the large solidly built dresser while Tony took his bathroom kit to the guest bathroom across the hall. He tried to visualise the layout of the cabinet and vanity then swore angrily under his breath when he dropped his tube of toothpaste and heard it bounce across the tiled floor.
He leant forward, sighing deeply and resting his forehead on the bathroom mirror. He relished the coolness of the glass against his overly warm skin. Squatting on his haunches he leaned forward and started systematically searching the floor with both hands. Feeling something with his fingertips, he reached quickly to the right and hit his cheekbone against the side of the bath. Frustrated and with his head pounding, he stood quickly and struck his head painfully on the towel rack.
"Son of a bitch!" he yelled furiously, climbing shakily to his feet and holding the sink for support.
"You okay?" Gibbs called.
"I'm fine!" he snapped back. "Don't come in here!"
"Take it easy, I'm not coming in," Gibbs replied with a calmness and patience he didn't know he still possessed. "I'll be downstairs."
Too tired and angry to continue the search, he brushed his teeth without toothpaste, washed his face and took care of business, then cautiously found his way back into the bedroom. He felt his way along the bed realising Gibbs had laid out his sweats, and folded the comforter at the foot of the bed. He changed into his sweats and heard the squeak of the stairs as Gibbs returned.
"Got some water and your meds. Must've left a bottle at your apartment. I'll get it tomorrow."
Gibbs placed a small bottle of water in one of Tony's hands and the meds into the open palm of the other hand and silently assessed his agent's expression and body language. He decided very quickly that the younger man was both livid and hurting.
"You need to tell me if that headache gets any worse."
Surprise flittered briefly over Tony's features and then his expression shut down once more.
"Bad one?"
Tony nodded dully, too tired and too pissed for small talk.
Gibbs opened a bottle of painkillers and gave Tony another pill. He watched as the younger man washed it down with more water.
"This may not be what you wanted but it's how it has to be…just for a few days."
Gibbs walked to the door and watched as Tony climbed into bed. Tony heard the click of the light switch as the lights were flicked off.
"Get some sleep," Gibbs said but silence was his only reply.
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As morning announced itself with the intrusion of sunlight, Gibbs felt more exhausted than he'd been when he'd hit the rack the previous night. He had spent the night alternating between tossing and turning and checking on DiNozzo who – with the aid of painkillers – went out like a light the minute his head hit the pillow.
The look of devastation and anguish he had seen on his agent's face as he opened his birthday gifts, had shocked him. He knew the younger man was not impervious to feelings of distress, misery and despair but, in nine years, had Gibbs rarely seen them rise so close to the surface – particularly in public
But it was the look of hurt and betrayal that reflected in Tony's sightless green eyes when he was told he was leaving his apartment, that bothered Gibbs greatly. Despite the necessity of the situation, they'd stripped him of the only thing he'd asked for since the accident – control of his own decisions.
Coffee – he needed coffee. He'd make breakfast and hopefully, after a good night's sleep, the younger man would be more accepting of the situation. He went downstairs to the kitchen, checking that the agents were still in position at the front and back of his house. He started the coffee machine and went back upstairs to shower and dress.
Feeling considerably fresher after his shower, he was just pulling the worn USMC t-shirt over his head when he heard a loud thump from the guest room. Alarmed that Tony may have fallen he quickly walked down the hallway and opened the door, disturbed to find Tony desperately feeling his way around the room.
"Tony?"
"I can't find it! It has to be here but I…I can't find it!"
Gibbs held Tony by the shoulders and turned him so he was facing him. Tony's pupils were still dilated, edged with a hint of green, and the former Marine wasn't sure that his agent was even awake.
"What can't you find?"
"The door," Tony said worriedly. "The door to my bathroom. I can't find it!"
Gibbs drew a fortifying breath.
"Tony, you're at my house, in my guest room. We came here last night."
Tony's face was expressionless for several seconds before the recollection hit and his face flushed with the heat of embarrassment. He pulled away from Gibbs mumbling an apology and stumbled toward the bed. Gibbs grabbed his bicep to support him.
"You need to hit the head?"
After several seconds of silence Tony nodded dully, still obviously feeling the pull of the meds.
"Come on," Gibbs said softly, helping Tony to his feet and across the hall.
Even drugged to the gills, the younger man's stubborn streak rose to the fore and he pulled away from Gibbs and closed the door quickly as if the lead agent had intended to follow him inside.
"Shoot straight, DiNozzo, or you'll be mopping up yourself, " Gibbs called through the door.
Bathroom business attended to, Gibbs assisted Tony back into the guest room where Tony fell back onto the bed. Gibbs turned to the wardrobe to select Tony's clothes.
"You want to shower or eat breakfast first?"
When Gibbs turned around, Tony's long limbs were strewn across the bed, his head canted to the side and the sound of soft snores escaped between slightly parted lips.
"Or…you could sleep some more," Gibbs said with a wry grin and shake of his head.
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She entered the lobby of the building, her confident stride masking the nervousness she felt being in such close proximity. She walked to the reception area and rang the buzzer for the building manager. The tall, fifty-something man with dark hair greying at the temples, looked a tad dishevelled as he opened the door to his residence and stepped out to greet her.
"May I help you, Miss?" he asked.
"I am sure that you can," she said with a small smile. "I would like to leave this parcel for one of your residents. Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo."
"You a friend of Tony's?"
"Ye-…we work together," Ziva replied.
"Well if you work with Tony, I'm surprised you don't know."
"Know what?" she said fear clenching her chest.
"Someone put a bullet through Tony's window last night – I had the glazier here till four o'clock this morning."
"And Tony?"
"Heard he's fine. No one got hurt. His friends whisked him away somewhere safe till they catch whoever did it. Gotta feel for the guy though, with everything he's been through lately and now this. I can take that parcel if you like but I can't say when he'll get it."
"No, thank you. I will get it to him some other way."
She turned and almost ran from the building, speed dialling McGee as she went. The call was answered on the third ring.
"McGee, why was I not told about the attempt on Tony's life last night?"
"Well, firstly, Ziva, good morning, and secondly, we're not sure whether it was an attempt on Tony's life or on Gibbs'," McGee said. "It happened late last night and I've been kinda busy trying to find the guy since then. I was going to call you this morning, however."
"I am sorry, McGee, I did not mean to be abrupt."
"You were worried about Tony, I understand. Hey, how'd you find out about this anyway?"
"Tony's building manager told me when I called by a few moments ago."
"To see Tony?"
"To leave his birthday gift," she said. "I do not believe he would want to speak with me so soon after…"
"Give him a chance, Ziva, I think he might surprise you."
"I am not so sure. McGee, if I drop this gift at your apartment, will you give it to Tony for me?"
"No, I'm sorry, Ziva, I won't."
"McGee…"
"No, this thing has gone on long enough, you need to talk to him, Ziva. He's staying at Gibbs' house. If there're any developments, I'll let you know. You need to do this."
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It was almost nine by the time Tony hauled himself out of bed and into the shower. He dressed and towel-dried his hair, without bothering to comb it. Gibbs watched from the kitchen door, his heart in his mouth, as Tony attempted to descend the staircase alone.
A picture of concentration, with one hand tightly gripping the railing and the other touching the wall, he slowly took one step at a time until he safely reached the bottom. Then he cautiously felt his way through the living room.
"Just in time, you almost missed breakfast," Gibbs said, using his voice to guide Tony into the kitchen where they took their seats at the small table.
"The plate is directly in front of you," Gibbs instructed calmly. "Sausage, eggs and those hash brown things you like. Cutlery is in the usual place beside the plate and your coffee is eight inches to your 1 o'clock. Got it?"
Tony nodded curtly.
"If you drop something, knock something over or if the egg drips down your chin – it won't be the first time I've had cause to question your table manners."
Gibbs was elated to see the fleeting grin and watched with interest as Tony picked up his fork and speared a hash brown. He frowned as it weighed much less than he anticipated.
"You cut my food?" he said with an indignant tone.
"Did it when you broke your arm, did it now – what's the difference?" Gibbs said casually.
"The difference is I haven't got a freaking broken arm, Gibbs! I'm not a kid, don't treat me like one!"
Gibbs raked his fingers through his hair and swallowed his own anger, amazed at his newfound patience with DiNozzo and his mood swings. He swapped Tony's plate for his own.
"You wanna cut, cut!"
He watched Tony struggle to cut his breakfast, silently cheering each successful thrust and capture as the young man obstinately battled his morning meal. His posture was stiff and tense and Gibbs could almost feel the anger building within. He managed to eat half of his meal before placing the cutlery across his plate to signal he was done.
"You look like crap," Gibbs said. "If you need more sleep I can call Vance, have him reschedule."
"No," Tony said sternly. "I need to talk to Vance – alone."
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