Yes guys, it's true, I am back! I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am for just disappearing for more than a year... Real life has just been too consuming. To all of you who sent me messages and reviews encouraging me to continue: Thanks! I highly appreciate it! I can't promise that the story will be finished any time soon, but as you see I haven't forgotten about it and also never will and there will be more chapters after this one.

So here we go, the next bit. No action, but we finally get to see what has been going on in Tony's head :)

Chapter 10

The moment just after waking up was always the worst of the day. Not that he slept exactly well, the nightmares seemed to come more often now, but the emptiness that was awaiting him when he woke up was like a punch in the face, every time.

It always started with the realization that he was paralyzed. It was like his brain still wasn't able to grasp that fact yet, because there was that very short instant, the instant between sleep and full awareness, where he felt normal. Just like Tony DiNozzo waking up. But then he wanted to shift, to stretch, to roll over - and that was usually the moment when he remembered. That his body - or the half of it - didn't work anymore. And every single day it was a shock. Then his hands would frantically reach down to touch his hip, his thighs, because the sensation of not being able to feel the lower half of his body still made him panic.

He didn't tell that to anyone, of course. But when there were nurses in the room, they usually noticed, mostly because they either heard how his breathing suddenly quickened, or because they saw the look on his face. Most of the nurses always chose to ignore it and they just went on with whatever they were doing, wishing him a good morning. But there were also two or three of them who would gently lay a hand on his arm and softly speak a few comforting words before tending to his daily routine. He wasn't sure if he liked that or not. It was embarrassing. But sometimes it also helped a little. Besides, there were so many other embarrassing moments he had to go through every day that one more didn't exactly make a difference. All the other things were far worse: Being rolled over by these nurses without being able to help. Not even being strong enough to lie on his side without cushions supporting him. Seeing the nurses massaging and moving his legs without being able to feel it. Having them take care of his bodily functions. It was so humiliating that the only way he knew how to deal with it was getting angry at them, even though he knew it wasn't fair.

They told him everything would get easier with rehab, where he would learn to do all that stuff by himself. But as long as he had to be lying horizontally so that his spine could heal properly and as long as he was so weak, it was simply a state of total dependency. And thinking about rehab didn't make him feel better anyway. It made him feel worse. In fact, thinking about anything made him feel worse. Because every thought lead to the one thing: that he had no idea how to live like this.

When he had first woken up after the coma, with the ventilator tube still stuck in his throat, the only thing that had mattered was telling Gibbs about the shooter. That he was dangerous and that they had to get him fast. Then looking into Gibbs' eyes and hearing his reassuring voice was everything he needed to calm down - even though he knew there was something else, something itching at the back of his mind, something that was very wrong. But he felt too exhausted, too heavy to remember what it was and so he slipped into his deep slumber, knowing that Gibbs had his back. The days that had followed after that were nothing but a haze in his memory: Dreamless sleep, interrupted by pain, muffled voices, blurry images.

Then coming back to consciousness, seeing an unshaven Gibbs sitting in a chair, he suddenly remembered everything. He remembered about the feeling of the gun being shoved against his spine, about the shot ringing out, about the pain, about lying on the floor and not being able to get up.

That moment, when he saw Gibbs sitting there and it all came back to him was probably the moment he knew he would never walk again. He just needed to hear it from Gibbs. And his boss actually didn't even have to say anything, because his face spoke volumes. Tony had never seen Gibbs look at him like that, with such pained, compassionate and apologetic eyes. He would never forget that face.

He knew the team was worried and he knew they waited for him to open up. He knew that Gibbs talked to Dr. Paxton every day, he knew that Abby was not as happy as she pretended to be and he knew that McGee wanted him to be a pain in the ass again. He also knew that the stunt Ziva had pulled with the morphine shot was her way of showing that she cared, and he knew that she sometimes cried because of him.

He knew it wasn't fair that he had shut them out. And sometimes he tried really hard to act like everything was normal. He would fake a smile and try to say something funny and pretend to be interested in whatever DVD he was watching. But it was just too exhausting to keep up for long. The emptiness inside him was too big to beat. Besides, they knew him too well to buy the act. So the only thing he could do was retreat from them as much as he could. Also, not talking to them, not looking them in the eyes made it easier not think about his situation. He hated it when everything he wanted to forget about so desperately was forced onto him by clashing with the reality of his friends' presence. That was the reason why having Ziva see him in pain and so helpless had been too much for him and pushing her away was the only thing he could do. That situation had confronted him with everything that the two of them had been and no longer were. They had been partners, friends, a dynamic duo. They had been teasing and scanning each other, playing a game he had sometimes loved and sometimes hated. And now all that was left of them was him lying in a hospital bed, weak and broken and her looking at him with an expression on her face he almost couldn't bear.

The days went by in slow motion and in fast forward at the same time. There was nothing else than emptiness, fear, fake smiles, a fast talking Abby and a stern Gibbs, palpating doctors and chattering nurses. And mental exhaustion. Tony didn't know which was the bigger strain on him: the constant trying not to break down or the not being able try harder.

"There are two ways to do this, DiNozzo", Gibbs said one day. "The first is to face it and deal with whatever is to come and the second is to give up before you've even tried. The second way is not an option."

Tony didn't want to hear that. Trying not to think about it was his only way of doing this right now. Dealing, that was not an option, he wasn't ready for it. And he felt like he would never be ready. But a month had passed and before he knew what happened he was forced into facing it, whether he wanted or not.

To be continued...

Reviews are most welcome, as always :)