Thanks a lot for all the reviews. Here's the next bit:
Chapter 3
They jumped up simultaneously when they saw him walking out of the elevator. "Boss -" was all McGee managed to say, before they determinedly blocked the way to his desk. Ziva wasn't as insecure about their move as Tim. She respected Gibbs, yes, but unlike the others she had never been afraid of him. And now there was something they had to do and she had gladly volunteered to do the hard part.
"Gibbs", she spoke hastily. "I know we have a case to solve and aren't supposed to do anything but working and filling you in about the results, but we really have to tell you, we're Tony's friends, too, and you can't expect us to work like robots while we don't have a clue how he is doing. We really respect the orders you give us, but we have a right to know, Gibbs –"
Ziva stopped her fast speech to catch her breath, but also because she didn't seem to know what else to say. Gibbs just looked at them, calm, almost bemused.
"Are you done?"
Ziva took a second to think about it and then simply said: "Yes."
"Good." Gibbs stated and passed between the two agents, completing the way to his desk. Ziva and McGee just stood there sheepishly, wondering whether their boss had decided to simply ignore them. When Gibbs had taken his seat, he stared at them until they realized he was going to tell them now.
It was a nightmare for Gibbs, again; both of them looking at him expectantly and anxiously at the same time. "Tony is...", he paused, silently wondering whether there really wasn't a better way to say it. "The bullet damaged his spinal cord. He's paralyzed below the waist."
No, there definitely wasn't any good way to say it.
For a moment there was a dead silence in the cubicle. Ziva remained completely still and stared into space, wide-eyed. McGee, the same shock written on his face, swallowed hard, then anxiously asked: "What... what are they're gonna do about it?" When Gibbs just gazed at him questioningly, he added: "I mean, ... they can fix it, right?"
Gibbs' stare had remarkably softened during the last minute, and so had his voice. "No, McGee, it's permanent."
Ziva grabbed the edge of Gibbs's desk, as if to keep her balance. McGee whispered "Oh God" and mechanically walked to his own desk, where he sat down quietly and buried his head in his hands.
Gibbs felt helpless; the feeling he hated the most of all the unpleasant feelings. He was their leader and he was supposed to tell them what to do. It now felt as if he actually was supposed to tell them how to deal with this. But how could he possibly do that, not even having a clue how to deal with it himself?
Ziva's sudden comment saved him: "I'm going to kill the bastard who did this." she said, her voice fraught with hatred and pain.
"No, Ziva, you're not", he answered. "Because I'm gonna kill him first."
It was almost cruel how easy catching the bastard turned out to be. Gibbs had only to throw a glance at the surveillance video to know everything, and before Ziva and McGee could understand what was happening he was already yelling "Grab your gear" at them.
Peter MacCane laughed them in the face when they arrested him, enjoying Gibbs' fury in the sick, twisted way Gibbs had already gotten to know from him when he had arrested him ten years ago, after MacCane had "helped" Petty Officer Burton kill himself.
Gibbs didn't kill MacCane, of course. Neither did Ziva, but they had never seen her so mad, and if Gibbs hadn't yelled at her repeatedly - McGee was sure of that - she would have killed the man right there and then. MacCane had known exactly what he was doing to Tony when he had shot him right in the spine.
When they all came back to the office in the middle of the night, there was a strange sense of hopelessness in the air. Arresting the shooter hadn't satisfied them, their was no feeling of closure to it. The guy had paralyzed their partner on purpose, only to be waiting for them laughing when they stormed into his apartment. That was not how it was supposed to be and it was so unfair that Gibbs felt like having been slapped in the face.
When he quietly entered the dimly lit room in the ICU, Gibbs was too tired, his mind too blank to be angry anymore. All he felt was a huge rock clinging to his heart, and it didn't loosen its grip when he saw his agent lie there, way too still, monitored by half a dozen machines and ventilated through a tube. He stepped to the bed and just looked at him, then rested his hand on Tony's forehead, feeling the warmth, the life in there he needed to be assured of so badly.
"He is putting up a good fight, Jethro" said Ducky, who had quietly stepped beside him. Gibbs gently run his thumb over Tony's brow. "He always is." he answered softly, before turning to the ME, who looked very tired. "Thank you for staying, Ducky."
"Really no need to thank me for something so natural, Jethro. Nevertheless, now that you're here it might best for me to go home. I'm sure Mother is already driving our poor maid insane."
"Goodnight, Duck." Gibbs said, squeezing the ME's shoulder. After Ducky had closed the door behind him, he grabbed the chair and pulled it closer to the bed. He sat down, exhausted, and it wasn't because of a physical tiredness. He leaned forward and looked at Tony, again studying his unmoving form, and cursed softly. With a feeling like the despair was taking him the ability to breathe, Gibbs let his head sink into his hands with a deep, shaky sigh.
When Gibbs entered the office the next morning, slowly drinking his sixth coffee of the day, he found both his agents looking worn out and being unusually quiet.
"How is Tony?" Ziva asked immediately, and Gibbs noticed the dark circles around her eyes.
"Still resting", he answered, and quietly added: "Determined to live, so it looks."
Ziva and McGee said nothing, both of them lost in their own thoughts for a moment. Neither of them had slept well; in fact, Ziva hadn't slept at all, while McGee had given in to his tiredness around 4 a.m., after having stared at the ceiling for hours. He had been trying to catch a clear thought, some sort of professionalism or objectivity. Their job was risky, bad things could happen. Besides, he told himself, after all shouldn't he feel simply thankful that their partner was still alive? Again they had barely lost him, and again they still hadn't in the end. Why couldn't it feel so relieving like after Tony had been out of the woods when having the plague, or when he nearly had been killed by Jeffrey White? McGee almost felt ashamed of himself becuase it felt like... it felt like when Kate died. He knew it wasn't fair. Tony wasn't dead. And it wasn't like being unable to walk was equal to a death sentence, McGee knew that. Of course he was thankful that Tony hadn't died. Still, what made him feel so desperate was that image of Tony. Tony in a wheelchair. Tony unable to stand, Tony looking up at him. It just couldn't be true; it felt simply not possible. But every time McGee's mind was about to slip into the comforting feeling of impossibility, Gibbs' way too sad face reappeared in front of his inner eye. "No, McGee, it's permanent." This definitely wasn't like the plague. The plague had been a nightmare, but at some point it had been over. Back then they had known that, after some fair amount of good care and rest, Tony would be back; everything would be as it had been before. This time there was no certainty, no light at the end of the dark path. Nothing would ever be as it had been before, especially not for Tony. Tony... A little bit angsty today, Probie, aren't we? Nothing's ever for certain, McGeek, we of all people should know that. Yeah, and yet that didn't help a bit when it came to reality.
"The Director gives us the week off", Gibbs' voice rang through the silence in the cubicle. "But I say we first get over with the reports. Shouldn't take long anyway. Not the most complicated case we ever had." His tone was bitter at the last sentence.
McGee swallowed. "Alright, Boss." he said as professionally as possible and after taking a deep breath began to type.
Gibbs's gaze wandered to Ziva, who hadn't moved a bit, and he frowned slightly. Her gaze was tightly fixed to a non existent point on her desk, and she looked somewhat pale. Then, with a sudden vehemence, she sprung to her feet. "I'm just going to the ladies room." she mumbled without looking up, and quickly left the cubicle. McGee, from behind his screen, shot a worried glance at Gibbs, who slightly shrugged and then brought his attention to his own computer.
"Um, Boss?", McGee began cautiously, when Ziva hadn't returned ten minutes later. "Don't you think we should, um ... do you think Ziva's alright?"
"Just give her a minute, McGee." Gibbs answered without looking up.
"Yeah well but, um, it's been almost fifteen minutes now, Boss..."
At this Gibbs gave McGee a stare that made him return quickly to his report, not daring to say another word. Only two minutes later Tim heard a soft grunting noise, and when he looked up Gibbs had raised from his chair and was already making his way out of the cubicle.
He couldn't enter the ladies room, of course. Hesitating for a moment he rolled his eyes, not liking the situation at all. "Ziva!", he then shouted, after clearing his throat twice. He didn't have to wait long. Only half a minute passed until she slipped through the door, slightly taken aback by how blatantly he was blocking her way. Her eyes were red and it was obvious she had been crying, although she tried to hide the fact by putting on a blank expression.
"You alright?" Gibbs grumbled.
She opened her mouth as if wanting to reply automatically, but then shut it again. Then she said bitterly: "If anyone of us would answer this question honestly today, Gibbs, it probably wouldn't be with a Yes."
Gibbs just looked at her and waited, slightly cocking his head.
The pose had its usual effect. Sighing deeply and leaning against the wall, Ziva let her guard down. "I just cant -", she began, then stopped and rolled her eyes. She looked at Gibbs with an almost urging look. "Tony is not going to take this, Gibbs", she said, suddenly sounding despaired. "It will break him, and you know it. He's not the kind of man who..." she trailed off, swallowing hard and averting her gaze.
"Then what kind of man is he, Ziva?" Gibbs asked calmly.
Fumbling for words, Ziva distractedly shook her head. "Well, you know. The kind of man who is... physical, whose believe in himself is largely based on his strength and on his power; on his energy, yes?"; Catching Gibbs' blank expression, she sighed exasperatedly. "Come on, you know what I mean, you're that way yourself. You would never take it."
Gibbs frowned and cocked his head even more. "If you think DiNozzo is that weak, Ziva, you underestimate him." he finally said.
"I don't think Tony's weak!", Ziva exclaimed. "I know he is strong!" She seemed sincerely hurt by his assumption. "But that's what I'm trying to tell you; he is strong, and he won't ... he just can't be..." she trailed off again, fighting hard against her welling up emotions. After a little pause she hoarsely said: "Tell me, Gibbs, can you imagine Tony as a paraplegic?"
Gibbs winced at that. The pain threatened to take over again, so he violently pushed the feeling away and looked Ziva in the eyes. "What's happened to your survival instincts, Officer David", he stated calmly. "You know that there's no point in asking ourselves if we can imagine something that definitely is reality; no matter if we feel like we can stand it or not. Tony needs us now, and whatever it takes, I'm not letting something like this break him. He's tougher than you may be thinking and if we help him believe, then he will believe." He almost whispered the words, as he always did when he was trying to make himself very clear.
Ziva stared at him, obviously having an inner fight going on. Finally, her expression calmed. "Alright." she nodded, pulling herself together.
"Good.", Gibbs said, and a sudden smirk played his lips. "McGee's probably thinking about reporting us missing by now. Shouldn't let the poor guy suffer any longer."
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