Chapter Seventeen

"Ziva!"

He didn't need to call for her, because she was already there. She took off her jacket and spread it out, then she straightened Tony's legs as Gibbs slowly lowered him to the floor.

"McGee! Call … !"

"Already did, Boss." Tim's feet beat a rapid rhythm as he ran down the stairs. "They're four minutes out."

"Fornell!"

Tobias stood from where he'd been kneeling next to Rivers' body. "He's dead," he said. He nudged the knife away with his foot even as he holstered his weapon. "We're clear."

'It's over.'

Gibbs allowed himself just one second to be grateful for that fact, and then he snapped into action. Tony had made it that far on his own, but he'd need their help to make it the rest of the way. He looked up at Tim, at the handful of towels he'd grabbed from the kitchen on his way down, and he nodded in approval and appreciation.

"Ziva, neck wound." It didn't look deep, but it was long, and it was bleeding heavily. "Don't touch his shoulder."

Ziva took a towel from Tim without a word.

"McGee, knife." Tim handed his knife over silently. "Chest and side." Gibbs shifted to his right, and Tim knelt down in the spot he'd just vacated.

The towels that Tim pressed against the two wounds started showing red almost instantly. The towel Ziva held against his neck had done the same. With those wounds being cared for, Gibbs could turn his attention to Tony's wrists and the electrical cord that still bound them.

Tony's sudden drop had saved his life, without a doubt, but it had come with a price. The small cut that Rivers started on his neck had gotten bigger as the knife dragged across it, and it went from under his ear to his jaw. His already damaged shoulder was grotesquely swollen, misshapen and bruised, and there was something jutting out under the skin on the top of it. And the cord had been pulled so tight against the outsides of his raw and bloody wrists that it was almost buried in them.

Gibbs shook his head silently as he opened the knife.

"Are you sure you want to do that?" Fornell had left his position next to Rivers' body and was knelt down on Tony's other side. "Those are in there deep."

"And they'll stay there." There was heat and anger in his voice. Did Fornell really think he was that stupid? "But I'm not leaving him tied up." He glanced up at Fornell quickly. "Wrap a towel around that arm, and don't let it move."

Gibbs sliced through the cord carefully, closed the knife and set it aside. Then he grabbed a towel of his own, lifted Tony's right arm, and applied pressure to the cut on the inside of his forearm.

"Tony?" McGee leaned down, and then glanced up at Gibbs. "Boss?"

Gibbs turned his head in time to see Tony's eyes flutter open. At least, his left eye opened. His right eye was too swollen to open more than a sliver. He looked at each of them in turn – first McGee, then Ziva, then Fornell, and finally Gibbs.

"You stay awake, DiNozzo. You hear me?"

Tony blinked slowly in understanding. He kept his one good eye on Gibbs, and Gibbs looked right back at him.

"That's it. Eyes on me. Stay with me."

Tony tried to follow the order, but it was obvious that he was having a hard time with it. His blinks were becoming slower and closer together, but he was fighting.

"Paramedics are on the way. Hang in there."

Tony shifted position slightly, so little movement that it was barely noticeable. Then a shudder ran through his entire body, he squeezed his eyes shut, and his head reared back against the floor.

Ziva moved her left hand to the side of his face. "Open your eyes, Tony."

His eyes shot open as far as they could, but it wasn't in response to Ziva's request. He opened his mouth as if he were about to scream, but no sound passed his lips. Then his eyes fell closed again, and his head fell to the side. Blood started to run from his nose and down the side of his face.

"Tony!"

"Damn it, DiNozzo!" Gibbs jammed his right thumb into Tony's sternum as hard as he could.

"Wake up, Tony," Tim muttered beside him. "Wake up."

"Open your eyes, DiNozzo! Now!"

"Hello!" An authoritative voice called from upstairs. "Paramedics!" Three heads turned toward it and yelled out in unison.

"Down here!"

Gibbs didn't move.

He kept his eyes locked on Tony's face, watching for some sign of waking, but he didn't see one. He heard the paramedics charging down the stairs with their gurney, and Fornell stood up.

"He's dead."

'He's not dead!'

"We'll have an ME take care of that. You were called for him."

Tim and Ziva both stood up and moved aside. But Gibbs didn't.

"Sir? Sir, we need you to move."

He still didn't.

"Boss."

"Gibbs."

He ignored them both, until they wrapped their hands around his arms and pulled him away. He didn't fight them, but he didn't help them, either. They got him to his feet, and the three of them stood, together, watching as the paramedics quickly and efficiently dressed Tony's wounds and moved him to the gurney.

"Is anyone else injured?" One of the paramedics looked around the room quickly, but he stopped when his eyes fell on Gibbs. "Sir? Are you all right?"

"What?" He shook his head in frustration. "I'm fine. Take care of him."

Then Tim was there, taking charge again. "Boss, you're bleeding pretty badly. You've got two black eyes, your nose is probably broken, your arm and hands are cut … you should go. Go with them."

"I don't need …"

Tim lowered his voice. "Go with him."

Something about Tim's tone snapped Gibbs back to reality. He'd been starting to go off-kilter again, and there was no reason for it. There was no crime scene to destroy. There was no evidence to collect. There was no attempted murderer in the wind. Santori was dead, Duncan was dead, Rivers was dead, and Tony was still alive.

'It's over.'

He nodded at Tim, then at Ziva, and they let go of his arms. He followed the paramedics up the stairs.

"We will be right behind you, Gibbs," Ziva said.

The gurney reached the landing, and the paramedics disappeared around the corner with Tony. Gibbs stopped there and turned back to look out over his basement one last time. He glanced around, making eye contact with both Tim and Ziva before his gaze turned to Bruce Rivers' body and the perfectly round hole between his eyes.

His eyes narrowed, and his jaw hardened.

"There's a dead security guard around here somewhere, too, Tobias. Find him. And get them both the hell out of my house."

Tony didn't wake up in the ambulance.

The paramedic in the back checked his blood pressure, listened to his lungs, checked his oxygen levels and started an IV, but he didn't move. The sirens wailed, the horn honked, and the paramedic shouted back and forth with the driver, but his eyes never fluttered. The tires screeched when they entered the ambulance bay, the gurney rocked when they pulled him out, and chaos erupted when they burst through the doors, but he didn't even twitch.

Gibbs stayed at Tony's side as they made their way down the hall. He was holding a large piece of gauze tightly against his upper arm, clearly indicating that he was injured, too, but no one seemed to notice. No one told him to stay in the waiting room; no one told him to get out of the way. In fact, everyone seemed to be ignoring him, which wouldn't have bothered him if not for one small thing.

"Doc Marquardt," he said. "Someone needs to call her."

No one answered him.

They ran into the exam room, and Tony was quickly transferred from the gurney to the bed. The nurses began moving around, hanging IVs and hooking up wires and flipping switches. He recognized one of them, and he put his hand on her arm as she rushed by.

"Juanita!" She stopped and looked at him, blinking in surprise. She must not have realized who was lying on the bed in front of her. "Where's the doc? She said to …"

"She's upstairs, Agent Gibbs. I'm sure she'll be here if she can."

"Has anyone called …?"

"Excuse me."

"But she needs to …" He stumbled back as Juanita pushed her way past him. Another nurse darted behind him, and she almost knocked him off his feet.

He turned his head from side to side, eyes sweeping the room quickly as the swarm of medical personnel buzzed around. He wasn't happy with how many people stood between him and the bed. He was frustrated with the fact that he couldn't move any closer for fear of being thrown out. He was not impressed by the detached, emotionless way they looked at and talked about Tony.

But what bothered him the most was that with the exception of one nurse who was probably just picking up an extra shift, no one in that room knew what they were dealing with. None of them knew what Tony had been through in the past two days, and none of them knew about the complications he'd already dealt with. They didn't know about his lungs; they didn't know about his heart; they didn't know about his muscle spasms or his shoulder or his oxygen levels or his blood volume. That was unacceptable. There was too big a risk that someone might do something wrong.

Since no one seemed inclined to listen to him when he talked, he drew a deep breath and did the same thing he'd done the day before.

"Doc!"

"Don't shout in my ER, Agent Gibbs." He spun toward the sound of her voice, letting out a relieved sigh when he saw her wading through the tide of nurses. "It disturbs the other patients."

He stepped toward her, but she held up her hand and stopped him. She looked him up and down, just once, and it was obvious she didn't like what she saw. She pointed one finger at him and then at the empty curtain area a few feet away.

"Go."

He opened his mouth to protest, but she'd already figured out what he was going to say.

"No arguing." She moved closer to Tony, picking his chart up and flipping through it as she walked. "You're bleeding all over the place, and you look like a raccoon. Get over there and let Tamera clean you up."

One of the nurses moved toward the empty bed. He followed her, though he kept looking back over his shoulder. When she reached for the top of the curtains to pull them closed, he hesitated, and Dr. Marquardt looked up from Tony's chart.

"Tamera," she said. "Leave it open."

Gibbs gave her a look of gratitude and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"My name's Tamera. I'll be your nurse."

He nodded without looking at her. He already knew her name, and he already knew she was a nurse. He had more important things to worry about than whatever pleasantries she wanted to give him. She moved a blood pressure monitor closer to him, pushed his sleeve up, and wrapped the cuff around his left arm.

"He's a friend of yours?" she asked. When he didn't answer, she tried again. "Your son?" The silence that followed was broken only by the beep of the monitor, indicating that it was finished. He didn't even look to see what it was. It was either too low, too high or perfectly normally, and he didn't really care which. "Well, he's in good hands. Dr. Marquardt is one of the best trauma surgeons we have on staff."

After a few more attempts at small talk, none of which he returned, Tamera gave up and cleaned his cuts in silence.

"Start with one unit of O-neg. Type and crossmatch for two more. It's going to be A-positive, but check it anyway." Dr. Marquardt had put a gown on over her clothes at some point, and she snapped a pair of blue gloves on. "Is his spine clear? Good. Roll him and let me see his back. Keep that arm immobilized."

As soon as she saw what had been done between his shoulder blades, she turned and looked Gibbs straight in the eye. He saw no condemnation or blame there, only concern. "Page plastics." She gave Gibbs one of her tired smiles, and then she turned back to take a closer look at the damage "I'm going to want Dr. Marshall's help with this."

She motioned with her hand for the nurses to put Tony back on the bed, and they did so. "Let's look at that eye." She stepped up to the head of Tony's bed, put one hand on either side of his face, and leaned down. "Call radiology. I need a CT scan of his head and face and an x-ray of this shoulder." She stepped around to Tony's left side.

"Sterile saline for these wrists. A lot of it." She looked down at his chest and side, then his neck, then the insides of both arms. "I'll need 5-0 silk and a 3/8 needle." She put one hand on the top of his shoulder and wrapped the other around his wrist, just above where the cord was still embedded. Very carefully, very slowly, she moved his arm up and away from his side.

Tony screamed in pain.

Gibbs jumped to his feet.

"Whoa!" Dr. Marquardt moved her hands from Tony's arm to the sides of his face. "Okay, okay. Tony. Tony!" She glanced up and saw Gibbs starting to move toward them, and she held up her hand. "You, stay!" Then she turned all of her attention back to her patient. "Tony. Look at me."

Tony had stopped screaming, but he was breathing so heavily that Gibbs could see his chest heaving from fifteen feet away.

"Hey, look at me, Tony."

Gibbs couldn't see his face, but Tony must have done what she asked, because she smiled down at him.

"Hey there. That hurts, huh?"

Tony's head moved slightly, obviously an affirmative.

"So, if I ask you to rate that shoulder on a scale of …?"

"Twenty." Cracked, raspy, and breathy … but awake, lucid, and honest.

It was the best sound Gibbs had heard all day.

She looked up at Juanita across the bed and nodded. "Fourteen of morphine, IV." She looked back down at Tony and leaned closer to him. "What was that, Tony?"

He hadn't heard Tony's questions, and he couldn't hear his answer. He wanted to move closer. But there was a doctor standing next to him with a needle in his hand, getting ready to sew his arm closed, and Tamera didn't look happy that he'd stood up in the first place, so he sat back down.

"Where's Agent Gibbs? He's fine, Tony." A few seconds passed. "No, he's fine. He's hurt, but he's fine. I promise." She turned and pointed in his direction, and a few seconds later, Tony turned his head. His one open eye followed her finger, and when he saw Gibbs, the tense, fearful expression on his face relaxed into one of relief. "See? He's right there."

Gibbs tipped his head once in acknowledgment.

'You made it.'

Tony nodded slowly in response.

'We won.'

"How about we get you fixed up, Tony? You'll be good as new in no time."

'You won.'

He wasn't supposed to leave the ER. He wasn't supposed to leave the exam room. He wasn't supposed to get out of bed at all.

But he had questions, and she had answers, and he was going to find her.

He finally tracked her down outside. She saw him coming, and she smiled at him as he approached. Then she looked down at the cigarette in her hand guiltily.

"I know these things are going to kill me," she said. "I keep trying to quit, but every time I think I'm going to make it, days like this happen, and I'm right back out here again." He kept walking without a word, and she took a long drag before she spoke again. "What can I do for you, Agent Gibbs?"

"They moved Tony out of the ER."

She nodded slowly. "That's because he's been admitted. I'll take you up to see him."

"Doc …"

"How are you, Agent Gibbs?"

He was surprised by the question. He'd thought that Dr. Marquardt, of all people, would understand that he wasn't there to talk about himself.

"I'm fine."

She laughed lightly and took another drag from her cigarette. "You have a broken nose, twelve stitches in the back of each hand, twenty-five in your arm, and a Grade Three concussion." She shook her head. "You have a strange definition of 'fine'. I think I know where Tony gets his from." She sighed. "But I guess your doctor agrees, because he wants to release you."

"Good."

"I went out to talk to your team for a few minutes. I understand from Agent McGee that the threat to Tony has been …"

"Neutralized," he interrupted.

"I think he said resolved, but I get the idea, either way." She took one last drag from her cigarette, and then she smashed it in the ashtray. "I noticed that Agent Rivers isn't out in the waiting room with everyone else. Is there a reason for that?"

"Yes."

She froze, and her eyes widened in surprise and understanding. "Wow. So, he's been … arrested?"

Gibbs shook his head slowly.

"Damn." She pushed her hair out of her eyes and turned toward him. "Okay. That's going to … damn." She took a deep breath and shook her head. "But I don't think you're out here to tell me about Agent Rivers."

"No."

She smiled softly, sighed, and straightened her shoulders. "Fair enough. First things first – Tony is going to be fine."

"Going to be." Gibbs didn't like the way that sounded at all.

Dr. Marquardt nodded. "Well, it's going to take some time. I'm not going to lie; he's pretty banged up right now. But he's in much, much better shape than he was when he got here Monday night."

Gibbs stood and listened attentively as she gave him another rundown of Tony's injuries.

Though the wounds he had were deeper than the first time, there weren't as many, and he hadn't bled as long. The cut on his throat had missed the artery by half-an-inch. His arms, chest, and side were clean and uncomplicated. A plastic surgeon had put the stitches in his back, and even with the jagged edges Rivers had left behind when he cut them back open, he probably wouldn't have much of a scar. He'd been given two units of blood so far, and he was going to get one more. If not for his blood volume being so low to begin with, he wouldn't have needed that much. His blood pressure was a little low, but she wasn't concerned. His oxygen levels were fine. They were monitoring his heart, but Dr. Marquardt didn't expect any problems.

He had a blowout fracture of the orbital floor of his right eye. That was why it was swollen shut, and that was why his nose had been bleeding. The blood pooling in his sinuses and running down his throat had made Tony's breaths rattle and his coughs sound wet. His eyeball was going to turn red, and his vision might be blurry until that cleared up, but he didn't need surgery. Gibbs' insistence that he keep breathing, no matter how much it hurt, had worked. His lungs were fine.

His wrists had been cleaned, sutured and bandaged. There didn't appear to be any nerve damage in his hands. He'd bruised both of his knees, but he hadn't done any significant or lasting damage to them. His concussion had been aggravated, but not badly. His intercranial pressure was fine. He'd never lost consciousness because of a head injury.

"His shoulder," Gibbs said.

"Yes," she said with a nod. "His shoulder. It is by far my biggest concern right now."

His shoulder hadn't been healed from the original dislocation yet. Rivers had knocked him down the stairs, and he'd landed on it. Tony told Dr. Marquardt that was the only time he'd lost consciousness. He had several torn ligaments, and the bump on the top, though it might shrink in size, was going to be permanent. He'd dislocated it again, and all indications were that he'd done it himself when the cords yanked his shoulders up as he dropped to the floor. It was going to heal, though it would take time. He was going to be in the immobilizer for at least three weeks, and a sling for several weeks after that. He would regain full mobility in his arm. He didn't need surgery.

Gibbs let all of the information sink in and process before he spoke again.

"He lied to you."

Dr. Marquardt's eyes widened in surprise. "About what?"

"That wasn't the only time he lost consciousness. He passed out right after he hit his knees. He woke up for a minute or two, but he passed out again. He was out cold when they brought him in. Remember? He didn't wake up until you moved his arm."

She smiled, and then she laughed. He stiffened and raised his shoulders in anger.

"Oh, Agent Gibbs." She stopped laughing, but she was still smiling when she spoke again. "Have you ever dislocated a separated shoulder?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Neither have I, but I can still tell you, it hurts like hell. The first time he passed out was probably a combination of exhaustion and his mind catching on to the fact that his shoulder had just been pulled back out. And I'm guessing that when he passed out that second time, he'd done something stupid. Like, say, move?"

Gibbs thought back over that moment. Tony had been looking at him, and he'd moved – not much, so little that Gibbs wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been watching him so closely. Then he'd shuddered, thrown his head back, and passed out.

"Yeah," he said. "He did."

"He passed out from the pain. He stayed that way because his mind obviously didn't want to wake up and deal with it. Honestly, Agent Gibbs, with all the movement involved in getting him in and out of the ambulance, and then getting him into a bed, it was probably for the best that he was out cold for it."

She had a point there.

Gibbs took a few seconds to finish digesting everything he'd just been told. Despite everything he'd been through, despite everything Bruce Rivers had done to him, Tony was alive. And he was going to be just fine.

'Rot in Hell, you stupid bastard.'

Gibbs smiled.

"I've already spoken to the director of the medical floor Tony's been moved to. In light of the fact that his life is in no danger medically, Agents McGee and Fornell both assure us that there is no investigation to preserve, and the threat to his safety has been …" She paused as she tried to think of the right word. "Neutralized … I'm afraid that she sees no reason to waive the visiting rules. No one is going to be allowed to stay with him outside of visiting hours."

The smile faded from his face, and he sighed. He really should have expected that.

"Also, we're pretty full at the moment, and all of our private rooms are already taken. He's going to have a roommate this time."

"I want to see him," Gibbs said. "As soon as I'm released, I'm going to …"

"Oh, you're not being released, Agent Gibbs."

"What?" He tilted his head in confusion. "I thought you said …"

"I said that your current doctor wants to release you. But I forgot to mention that your care has been taken over by another doctor. A real hardass. One who insists on a mandatory admittance for 24 hour observation after all head injuries above a Grade II."

"No. That's not …"

"Of course, since the private rooms are full, you'll have a roommate, too."

She was smiling. It wasn't a tired smile, or a worried smile, or a fake smile. It was a real, true smile.

It took him longer than it should have to figure out why. And when he did, he laughed.

"I'm rubbing off on you, Doc," he said. "Breaking the rules?"

She shook her head. "Bending them. Because it's in my patient's best interest." She took one step toward him. "Both of my patients' best interests."

A comfortable silence settled around them, and for the first time in forty-eight hours, Gibbs allowed himself to relax.

"Let's get you back to the ER before they send security out looking for you," Dr. Marquardt finally said. "I'll bring your team in so you can give them the good news, and I'll get your admission papers drawn up. Tony's asleep – not sedated, just sleeping – and I think it would be good if you're in the room and settled as quickly as possible. I think you should be the first person he sees when he wakes up. That'll go further toward convincing him that he's going to be all right than anything I could ever say."

She turned to walk back into the hospital, but Gibbs' hand on her arm stopped her.

"Thank you, Doc." The words seemed insignificant, weak, and they didn't even come close to expressing what he was feeling. He hoped that the rest of the meaning was showing in his eyes and on his face, because he didn't know how else to express it. "For everything."

Another smile, one that told him his meaning was clear.

"You're welcome. Just do me a favor?"

"Sure," he said. "Anything."

"Don't ever bring him back to me like this again."

He nodded slowly. "I'll do my best."

She put her hand on top of his. "Of that, Agent Gibbs," she said, "I have never had any doubt."