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Fractured Part 5
For once, Abby could find little satisfaction in the work she was doing and now, sitting at her computer, she stared at the screen, but clearly was seeing nothing. Sighing deeply, she set her elbows on her knees and rested her chin into her cupped hands.
The approaching footsteps warned her well in advance that she had a visitor, but she chose not to acknowledge the fact.
"Abby?" Tim's voice conveyed his evident concern, but the pig-tailed Goth began her own conversation.
"We're losing him and there's nothing I can do."
Gently spinning her chair round, McGee looked down into his favourite scientist's worried face.
"Hey, come on. You heard Ducky. Tony's with Gibbs now."
And as if she hadn't spoken the question a thousand times already, Abby raised plaintive dark eyes and whispered, "Why didn't he tell us what was going on? Did he doubt we'd help him? Did he Tim?"
If he actually counted the times he'd had this conversation, he could be forgiven for allowing a slight hint of frustration to enter his voice, but the agent was as worried as his colleague, only unwilling to add to her dark mood, so he worked to put her mind at ease as he had a hundred and more times already.
"That's just it, Abby. Tony knew we'd bend over backwards to help him, which he knew would have put us in a difficult position."
"You mean with Gibbs? But didn't he know Gibbs would be the first to help him?"
Tilting his head, Tim was relieved to see the Goth more focused as she fixed him with imploring eyes.
"Probably with the Agency."
"So you think he was protecting us, not telling us, you mean?"
The younger man nodded and smiled his approval that she was managing to follow his line of reasoning.
"But who's going to protect Tony? Ziva seems to think the Agency is going to come down hard on him. Slap his wrists big time."
Rolling his eyes ominously, Tim refrained from saying that their senior field agent was going to get far more than slapped wrists, but it seemed that Abby could read minds well enough and her own eyes grew large with concern.
"Bossman hasn't been sounding his normal chirpy self when I've phoned to get my hourly updates on Tony."
Unable to comprehend how Abby could ever see Gibbs as either 'normal' or 'chirpy', his own expression still revealed his anxiety as he stuttered, "Y...you phone him e...every hour?"
Standing now, the young woman began to pace around her lab. "C'mon, McGee, we may have been banned from visiting, but he never said anything about not phoning."
"Mmmm...So, er, what did he say?"
Scrunching up her face, Abby answered gloomily, "He wasn't exactly talkative."
Shaking his head at her naiveté, McGee was just about to warn her against continuing that line of communication, when Ducky entered the lab.
"Ah, I wondered if you'd be here Timothy. Ziva asked me to remind you that teamwork means exactly that. Her words ran along the lines of...'And if he thinks because Tony chose to follow that route, that he can too, he is going to have to think again.' There was, I believe, a particular glint in her eyes when she spoke those very words so I would be failing in my duties as a physician who has taken the Hippocratic Oath if I were to allow you to ignore this warning."
The fact that he was chuckling did nothing to ease McGee's worry, and he scowled darkly. "Ever since Tony's lone mission she's been..." He paused, searching for a suitable adjective which wouldn't get him killed.
Ducky was happy to accommodate the agent. "Difficult?"
The way McGee was feeling, it obviously didn't come anywhere close to what he wanted to convey, but he nodded politely.
"Ziva is missing Anthony - it is her way of dealing with his absence."
"Well I wish she'd find a different way of dealing rather than threatening to eliminate me at any and every opportunity."
The faintest flicker of a smile graced the young woman between them as she asked, "You're not scared of Ziva are you, McGee?"
About to shake his head, the young agent rethought his position and not in the least embarrassed, stated, "Yes - I kind of enjoy being alive."
"Well let us hope Anthony echoes your sentiments after spending this time of recuperation with Jethro," stated Ducky softly.
They all looked at one another, no one looking particularly optimistic.
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Bitterly cold as it was, Gibbs took his coffee and sat on the deck oblivious to the weather or the view before him. If the grey-haired man saw the lone bird swoop down and pluck a fish from the water, nothing showed on his features; his whole attention on one thing and one thing alone.
Taking a gulp of his steaming coffee he stared into his mind seeing again Tony's face twisted with something other than pain as he confronted Gibbs just moments earlier.
He'd seen his agent in every mood conceivable, and though Tony was renowned for his juvenile pranks and womanising smiles, he also had a darker side that could, depending on the case, turn hard and brittle. It was a side that, though rare, kept McGee and Ziva extra vigilant; they would usually find work to keep them well away from their senior field agent when he was in the grip of one of his darker moments and everyone, even Gibbs to a certain extent, breathed a sigh of relief when Tony managed to break free from the desolate place he had been in to return to playing the spoilt former frat boy out for a good time.
But this was different. Tony's darkness had a much uglier, jagged side to it and running a hand through his iron-grey hair, the former marine doubted if this could be sorted with a simple head slap and a sharp order to snap out of it.
He knew what it felt like to lose someone in combat, and he knew what it felt like to lose one of his own team; Kate's loss still had the ability to catch him unawares at the worst of times and the guilt and sorrow would never totally be erased. He had simply learned to live with it, but it seemed that Tony was unable to reach that frame of mind and Gibbs was positive that anything he said now would be ignored or worse.
He recalled how just a few hours earlier this very morning he had woken to Tony's yelling as he'd wrested himself from his nightmare. Leaving his own bed he had watched the injured man leave the cabin and had stood silently in the shadows watching his agent stand barefoot at the edge of the lake. He'd considered going to him then, wanting to help ease those troubled thoughts that had forced him from sleep, but the mood in which they had parted company earlier did not bode well for further conversation if body language was anything to go by.
And if Gibbs were to be honest with himself, there was a raw bleeding ache within his own body caused by Tony failing to come to him when there was trouble. That his lead agent, whom he'd trained and nurtured more carefully than any other person before, could simply tell him a pack of lies and go off and then face overwhelming odds, was anathema to the former gunny. Feeling the tension beginning to build up inside of him, he knew that if he continued to think on this crushing stupidity, he'd end up wanting to knock Tony's head off his shoulders. So no, going to him now was not a good idea.
But there would come a time when he would have this out with him. Of that there was no doubt whatsoever. But he needed to pick his moment with care for he was resolute that Tony was going to listen to his talk and then talk himself - even if Gibbs had to tie him down for it.
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In the end, once his coffee was finished, Gibbs had gone to the back of the cabin and spent a satisfying hour chopping kindling for the wood fire he intended lighting in the evening. It wasn't, he admitted wryly, as satisfying as giving his thick-headed agent a good hiding - not even close - but under the circumstances it would have to do.
And later he'd returned to the cabin and made a hearty fresh tuna and vegetable casserole with everything thrown into the bowl and then thrust into the oven to bake. Simple but effective. It would, he hoped, tempt the poor appetite of his charge.
He'd trusted that the aroma of the food placed on the kitchen table would encourage DiNozzo to emerge from his room and make an appearance so that he wouldn't have to go banging on his bedroom door, but as the food began to cool it seemed that unless Gibbs took some action he would be sitting and eating alone.
The former marine sighed as he stared at the still steaming food; Ducky had been most explicit in his instructions when it came to Tony's eating habits. Meal times were to be followed rigidly and without exception the young Italian was to be coerced one way or the other to eat. Missing meals was not to be encouraged at any cost.
Gibbs had no intention of that happening, and approaching Tony's door he gave a sharp rap and called, "Food's up, DiNozzo. Come and get it."
When he got no reply to his second call, he shook his head in disbelief at the younger man's stubbornness and strode into the room ready to frog march one obstinate field agent to the table and if need be spoon feed him. But having cast his eye round the empty room and having checked the bathroom, Gibbs realised that DiNozzo was no longer in the cabin.
Damn! Going outside, his face had darkened with frustration as he'd checked the area around the cabin and along the lake side, but there was no sign of his agent. Opening his phone, he pressed the key for speed dialling the Italian. He expression grew stormier still as he heard the cheery answering message.
"DiNozzo, you'd better have a good excuse for not being here. Now get your sorry ass back here." Before finishing with an explicit warning, "Don't make me come looking for you!"
Returning inside the cabin, he scanned Tony's room and with a sinking feeling he realised the convalescent had not only gone off without informing him, but had also neglected to take his midday painkillers. He cursed long and hard.
Spooning the food back in to its large casserole dish, he replaced it in the oven to keep warm until one AWOL agent decided to return.
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"When I left him in your care, Jethro, I expected you to take good care of the young man."
It wasn't often Gibbs winced, but he was doing it now as he restrained himself from holding the phone away from his ear as Ducky gave him a piece of his mind.
"And as much as you may deny it to the heavens, I know you're hurting."
Gibbs' snort in no way inhibited the M.E. in full lecture mode as the older man continued acerbically, "For whatever misconstrued reasoning, the boy failed to come to you and that must cut deeply. But hear me well, you will get over this."
Gibbs glower might not have been communicated over the cell line, but Ducky was an intuitive man and he paused for a moment, sighing understandingly.
"Anthony is a complex young man, as you well know who finds any show of affection to be almost distasteful. It is as if starved of it as a child, he cut himself off from that emotion until, that is, he came to NCIS. And very slowly, you and Abigail insinuated yourselves under a chink in his armour and he began to allow himself some leeway in this area. Ahhh, but you have done a terrible thing, Jethro. You have led him to believe he's lost that affection which he holds so dear - at a time when he's grieving the loss of a friend and is in trouble with the Agency. You have used your anger to seek retribution. So tell me this, Jethro. Does one hurt merit another?"
"Ducky, this has nothing to do with--."
But the M.E. had had enough of Gibbs' procrastination, and cutting him off sharply, stated, "And I can tell you this, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, consider yourself fortunate that I'm not there in person, because if I had a switch to hand, I would be marching you to the nearest woodshed to beat some sense into your stubborn hide!"
The silence was telling.
"Ducky, I--."
"I have no wish to hear what you have to say right now. What I do require is for you to work this distasteful business out before I decide to do it for you. Now, be so kind as to phone me the moment you have located our absconder."
And giving him a taste of his own medicine, Ducky cut the connection, leaving one seriously perturbed lead agent.
Gibbs blinked. He had never seen the Scot so upset or angry. He rubbed his forehead and considered that possibly he did need to rethink his strategy with DiNozzo. So far, he'd achieved nothing but a more pissed-off field agent and an even more pissed-off pathologist.
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It was a good two hours before a police vehicle drew up beside the wooden steps leading to the deck of the cabin, and from his seat next to the driver, Tony could see Gibbs standing tall and erect at the top, his expression less than welcoming. With a shudder of apprehension, instantly repressed, he opened the passenger door, gave the driver a nod of thanks and slowly stepped out.
As the car reversed and drove back the way it had come, Tony dared to make eye contact and immediately wished he hadn't.
Working hard to keep a hold of his frayed temper, Gibbs noted the guarded expression in his agent, took in the cut over Tony's left eye and the way the man was favouring his right hand. The ex-gunny's blue eyes narrowed dangerously and just as Tony was about to pass him by, his hand shot out and he grabbed his agent's wrist the better to assess the damage which was now all too evident from the skinned knuckles to the bruised and swollen hand.
"Care to explain, DiNozzo?" His tone was dangerously soft as he backed his agent against the deck railing and Tony tried without success to conceal his wince.
"It's nothing."
He looked sheepish as he attempted to prise his wrist away, without success. When his chin was also grasped in a firm hold and a closer inspection made of the cut over his eye, he just managed to refrain from rolling his eyes. Eye rolling never went down well with his team leader and Tony didn't need much intuition to know now would be particularly bad timing.
"I...I was--."
"In a fight?"
"No!" Then grimacing, he continued, "Not exactly."
He proceeded to explain that he'd interrupted the local gas station being robbed by a couple of amateurs and had put a stop to it.
"It was nothing, Gibbs. Two kids out for a couple of bottles of Jack Daniels. The perps hardly knew what they were doing. I took one out and the other took a swing at me."
"With what?"
Hesitating for just a fraction of a second, Tony wondered whether he could get away with the slight omission, until he read the look in Gibbs eyes.
"One of the bottles."
He waited for the eruption to come, but Gibbs simply stared a moment longer then stepped away leaving Tony feeling strangely bereft.
When Tony followed Gibbs inside, he found the kitchen table set and the smell of cooked food permeating the place. The scene was so startlingly domestic that he almost did a double take.
Realising he was in enough trouble, he immediately made for the table and was just about to take his seat when Gibbs' dark glare stopped him in his tracks and thinking it was to do with him failing to wash his hands, he shrugged his shoulders sheepishly and began to head for the bathroom.
"Bedroom. Now!"
The curt imperative had him cringing as he hunched his shoulders self-protectively.
Crap, Gibbs couldn't be serious, could he? Freaking time out? He wasn't five years old!
It had been years since Tony had experienced such a punishment yet even with the passing of so much time it still had the ability to cause him immense discomfort. With a reluctance borne of past memories, Tony trudged to his room, more than a little chary when Gibbs followed.
But before he could voice his concern, the older man reached over, grabbed Tony's night attire - boxers and T-shirt - from off the bed and thrust them into his arms.
"You're sending me to bed?" He couldn't have sounded more indignant as he shook his head in disbelief.
Ignoring his question, the older man nudged Tony into the bathroom and closed the door. Moments later the suitably dressed agent reappeared in full sulk mode.
"I'm not freaking five years old, Gibbs."
Looking him straight in the eye, the grey-haired man stated crisply, "Bed, DiNozzo."
"But--."
"Do you want me to put you there?" his voice carried a soft but unmistakable warning.
"Aw, come on, Gibbs!"
But no matter his protest, Tony slowly shuffled forward and climbed into bed pulling the covers over him while muttering under his breath that he thought spanking was probably taking it a little too far.
"On your front, DiNozzo."
"Wha-at?"
Paling dramatically, Tony immediately regretted his last snarky comment and attempted to make amends.
Exhaling a shaky breath, he stuttered, "I...I was kidding, Gibbs. I...er...I didn't--."
Closing his eyes in obvious exasperation, Gibbs barked, "What the hell's wrong with you? Over. I need to check your wound."
Even as intense relief flooded through the younger man, he squirmed with embarrassment as he stated softly, "I...I'm okay."
Giving him careful perusal, the former marine stated firmly, "Good. Now turn over."
"I said I'm fine. Don't you believe me?"
Jaded blue eyes carried their own message, but still Gibbs felt the need to make his position clear.
"I've already told Ducky that when it comes to your health, I trust you only as far as I can see you, so what do you think, DiNozzo?"
Eyes suddenly wide with blinding comprehension, Tony's immediate elation at understanding the true meaning of Gibbs words to the M.E. was slightly dimmed by his continued discomfort at Gibbs' request.
Frowning in displeasure, Gibbs snapped, "Do you have a problem or what?"
"Well, it's kind of...Hey!"
Losing patience with Tony's reluctance to comply, Gibbs had attempted to push the young man over while lowering the covers, but Tony's hands had clamped hard on the sheets as he avoided Gibbs' manoeuvre, much to the irritation of the older man.
"What the hell's got into you, DiNozzo? All I want to do is check your wound. What's your problem?"
Screwing his nose up, Tony's closed expression conveyed more than he realised as Gibbs slowly shook his head in understanding.
"You're shy?" Even Gibbs sounded sceptical. "You know, DiNozzo," he continued dryly, "I have seen you without clothes. Spending 3 days and nights in the ICU with you, I kind of got used to tubes being checked and changed and all those sorts of things that nurses and the like do when trying to keep you the hell alive. The fact that you were for the most part naked as a jay bird didn't make too big an impression, but trust me, DiNozzo, I've seen everything you've got so checking out your wound is not going to cause me any undue trauma. Now, are you going to do as I ask?"
Tony's head jerked up, his face flaming with deep colour, his eyes burning with a feverish brightness, yet if asked, he wouldn't have known whether this was from awkwardness or from the total shock of hearing that Gibbs hadn't in fact deserted him when he'd been in hospital.
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Later, an ice pack on his swollen knuckles and antiseptic cream lathered on his abrasions, Tony tried hard to bring his swirling thoughts under a semblance of control. It was as if everything that had happened over the last few days had been turned upside down and for once the wounded agent didn't know whether he was coming or going.
He started when the door to his bedroom opened and the cause of most of his consternation came in carrying a tray of food. He wasn't used to being waited on hand and foot, and when it came down to Gibbs doing the waiting...well, it didn't sit well at all. But it had been made transparent that his future didn't bode well if he were to set foot out of the bed unless absolutely essential and bathroom breaks were the only acceptable reason as far as the marine was concerned.
He stared at a tray containing a dish of food as it was placed on his lap feeling as much enthusiasm for the contents as a convicted criminal taking his last meal before facing the gallows.
He wasn't used to waiting when he knew Gibbs considered him in the wrong, and Tony began to feel distinctly ill at ease. As he took up his fork he initiated the next conversation.
"I suppose I should have told you where I was going."
Gibbs looked up, his blue eyes pinning Tony with uncomfortable precision.''
"You think so, DiNozzo?... Eat."
The curt nod he gave Tony was order enough and after an unhealthy pause, the younger man sank back down, uncomfortably aware that he had no appetite.
Picking up his fork, he felt the lump in his throat grow even bigger and proceeded to move the fish and vegetables around in his dish hoping that his actual lack of consuming such food would go unnoticed.
"Move that around any more and that fish is going to get seasick."
Tony's hand stilled, and he grimaced knowing that he was in a catch-22 situation. Eat and he'd end up throwing up; don't eat and Gibbs would end up throwing the food at him!
The lack of reaction to his words had Gibbs' eyes narrowing, but he suppressed, with difficulty, the urge to smack his agent hard, and snapped in exasperation, "If you want me to spoon feed you, DiNozzo, you're going about it the right way!"
Raising appalled green eyes, Tony stared aghast, but Gibbs' features were a study in inscrutability, as he stated flatly, "Your choice."
Reluctantly, Tony speared a potato, raised it slowly to his mouth and swallowed with difficulty. He repeated the motion a number of times until Gibbs' penetrating gaze slid away from him.
From the corner of his eye, he could see that the meal was a trial for the pale younger man, and no doubt the reprimand he was expecting wasn't making matters any better, but Ducky's earlier lecture to Gibbs about sensible nourishment had struck home and Gibbs intended to stay focused on that point even if one delinquent junior was testing that focus to the limit.
Gibbs nodded to himself. Let the kid wallow. He knew a tongue-lashing was headed his way, but he was going to have to wait a little longer. Gibbs was more than happy to keep Tony hanging. Hell, he was prepared to let him tie the knot as tight as he liked. And with just a hint of a smile, the older man left Tony alone to flounder in self-imposed discomfort while he finished his coffee on the deck.
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"What were you doing in the store?"
Gibbs tone was perfectly controlled, with not a hint of censure, but Tony had been expecting the question when he eventually returned and he inwardly grimaced. Lying to Gibbs was something he'd learned the hard way was not recommended. Still, he hesitated - he didn't think that his need for liquor would be all that well appreciated - and decided that going for the lesser sin, the act of omission, was the better course.
"I was thirsty after walking that distance, so..."
The older man continued to watch him, head canted slightly to one side, making Tony feel...uncomfortable as hell. He began to fidget slightly, a definite give away, but one he seemed incapable of controlling.
"Did you have your cell on you?"
It was a pointless question; everyone knew Tony went nowhere without it; it was as much a part of him as every vital organ in his body.
He nodded warily. He knew where this line of questioning was going.
"So why didn't you call me?"
His tone continued to be mild, deceptively so, but Tony didn't make the mistake of lowering his guard.
"It all happened so fast that I--."
"After it went down." Steel had crept into Gibbs' tone.
Tony blinked and would have liked to have broken eye contact, but he knew it would have been as much an admission of his guilt as if he'd spoken the words aloud.
"I...I sort of got caught up in the whole situation and it didn't occur to me until--."
Again Gibbs interrupted, "Tell me this, DiNozzo, do you have any idea what the concept of teamwork means?"
Tony bristled at the implication, answering sullenly, "Yes."
"Is that so? Well you'll have to excuse me if I think otherwise." The tone had hardened considerably, the sarcasm bleeding into the words.
Shifting restlessly, Tony grimaced, unsure whether he was relieved that it was all coming to a head or not.
Straightening his shoulders, feeling at a definite disadvantage lying in the bed, he stated curtly, "I did what I had to do."
"So tell me, DiNozzo, exactly what was that?"
"Look," his eyes flashed fire, "I'm not going to apologise for what I did at the store. What happened happened, I wasn't about to stand by and let two punks get away with a crime when I could stop it. But okay, maybe I should have let you know what went down."
Gibbs' dark eyes stabbed him with the full force of his anger as the ex-marine snapped, "And maybe you should have let me know about Jimmy."
Gibbs could see as clear as a Swiss mountain stream - his agent was closing down before his very eyes, unwilling to go where the older man demanded, but Gibbs had no intention of letting that happen. Slamming his hand down on the bed he then leant forward and pushed him in the chest.
"Oh, no you don't! You're not going to shut down on me until we've had this out once and for all!"
And drawing on all his restraint, Gibbs lowered his voice, growling, "Ducky wanted us to have a talk and that's what we're going to do. Now talk."
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To be continued.