Note: I just realized my scene dividers didn't show up in the first chapter, so I've made new ones and re-loaded it.

CHAPTER 2

Tony awoke to find Agent Fornell sitting nearby on a hard chair, looking through some paperwork. When he became aware of Tony's eyes upon him, Fornell asked casually, "Did you know your temperature was 100 at the scene, and last check it was 102? Bruises, abrasions…Blood in your urine, too."

"They did an ultrasound. It's nothing," Tony said impatiently. "How's Jethro?" he asked, unable to suppress a dry cough. He'd had pneumonia years ago, after a run-in with a pickup truck full of stolen goods had left him banged up pretty bad, and unconscious for a couple of days. The following days spent in the hospital were best forgotten as far as he was concerned; every breath with the broken ribs painful and exhausting. Tony did not want a repeat of the endless coughing, breathing exercises and excruciatingly slow recovery time. Wendy had liked to bring it up, as People's Exhibit #1, whenever she tried to get Tony to leave the force.

"More to the point, how'd you get all those bruises?"

"None of your business," Tony retorted, pulling the cotton hospital gown further up his chest.

"Actually, it is. You forget I'm running the investigation on your kidnapping?" Fornell pointed out.

"Considering I'm the one…" Tony coughed a couple of times. "I'm the one who got abducted…sorta hard to forget."

Fornell pulled a sheet of paper out of Tony's file. He held it so Tony could look at it, then studied it himself. "These bruises didn't all happen when you made your great escape," the FBI agent stated.

Tony laughed softly and nodded. "The Great Escape. Great film. 1963. Steve McQueen on his Triumph; James Coburn, David McCallum, James Garner…'Tea without milk is so uncivilized.' I always loved that line."

"Ribs, lower back, buttocks, thighs," Fornell read off.

"Personally, I like white meat. You ordering Kentucky Fried Chicken?"

"This is serious, DiNozzo. The toxicology report is an interesting read: sedatives, anti-anxiety meds, and even an anti-psychotic…It looks like Beals dosed you with his own meds."

Tony let out a snort. "Yeah, I think I got that message." He gave a couple of half-hearted tugs at the IV in his arm. "Something about me seemed to annoy him," Tony said in a quiet voice. After a moment of silence, he shrugged and said, "It was like a game. I poked to see how far I could go before he went off the deep end. Maybe I pushed a little too hard?" He smiled ruefully. "Sorta backfired, but…what can I say? Just ask my dad. Or Wendy. They'll both be happy to tell you I can't help myself."

Away, get away, don't stop…Don't let him lay his hands on you again…don't let him…

Tony asked, "What?" Fornell had said something and he'd missed it.

Fornell eyed him for a moment before saying, "I asked if you feel up to giving a full statement, Congressman."

Tony shook his head. "I can't. I…D'you know how Jethro is doing?"

Fornell slipped Tony's paperwork back where he'd found it, next to the computer. "Gibbs' shoulder is giving him a little trouble, but he'll be fine," the agent said, as if unconcerned.

Tony waited, expecting more, but when it became obvious that Fornell wasn't going to add any more, he asked, "That's all you can say, Mr. FBI-man?"

"What makes you think I know Gibbs' business?"

Tony couldn't quite read Fornell's expression. There was a tickle in his throat, so Tony kept his voice to a near-whisper when saying, "For starters, you're a Fibbie. You didn't think twice about sticking your nose in my confidential medical records." Unfortunately, even whispering brought on a fit of coughing, and when one of the machines Tony was connected to started to beep urgently, Fornell stood up. If he was about to go and get someone, he didn't need to because Ramona swept in to see what was going on. She pushed Fornell out of the way, raised the head of the bed a little more and quickly prepared a nebulizer mask to deliver medication to Tony's lungs.

"Keep this on, Congressman," Ramona said sternly.

Tony flapped a hand at her, but he did as she said.

"He going to be all right?" asked Fornell, looking worried.

"He's supposed to be resting, not being interrogated," Ramona said sharply.

"He's under my protection," replied Fornell.

The nurse made a 'Humph" sound, not impressed.

It looked as though Fornell was about to leave, so Tony called out hoarsely, between coughs, "For…nell…Tell…me…" He raised a hand to the annoying mask, but Ramona warned, "Mr. DiNozzo."

"All right. They're talking to Jethro about whether or not he needs surgery," Fornell revealed. "He tore something in the arm that got messed up last year, and he's waiting for an orthopedic guy to give him the verdict. He's pissed off because he's had his share of surgeries on that arm already, and he's worried he won't be able to take care of those horses of his. That enough inside information for you, Congressman DiNotso?"

Tony nodded and relaxed on the bed. Nobody said so, but he knew that he was the one at fault that Jethro was injured. If he hadn't let Beals into the house when Jethro had gone out to close the barn door that was banging in the wind…if he hadn't let Beals get the better of him, and then drag him out onto the front porch…Jethro must have been injured when he'd hauled him out of danger. Now Jethro was facing surgery on his shoulder. Tony had also seen blood seeping through the back of Jethro's shirt, from where he'd been cut by flying glass. Although his rescuer had made light of any injuries he'd incurred, guilt washed over Tony. And then he asked himself, 'How did I let myself get kidnapped in the first place?' A question he had no good answer to, because he couldn't even remember being snatched in the first place.

After a while, Tony asked the FBI agent about his wife. "She okay? And my son?" Tony wondered what Wendy had told Zachary about the kidnapping. Tony was often out of town during the week, so his son wouldn't think it odd if his dad wasn't around for a few days, but he would have noticed that something out of the ordinary was going on. Zack was a lot like Tony had been at that age, always snooping around, curious, asking questions. Sometimes Wendy got annoyed, or ignored Zack's persistent questions, but Tony got a kick out of them. He even called the boy 'Junior Detective' or 'Agent Zack' at times.

Whenever Congress was in session, Tony stayed in a rented room in DC, but he made it a point to have dinner with Zack every Friday night and spend some time with him at the weekend. Luckily it wasn't far from DC to Baltimore, and it was just another short leg out to Roland Park, where Wendy and their son lived, in a McMansion that Tony had never really liked. They'd bought the big house ten years ago, when Zack was born.

Fornell told Tony that, for security's sake, Wendy had been advised to remain at home, but even in his debilitated state, Tony could tell the FBI agent was whitewashing his reply. "Are they safe?" Tony asked. Fornell said they were being well protected, and Tony nodded. Their continued safety was all that mattered.

Fornell leaned close to Tony and said, "We need that statement as soon as you're up to it. We don't want to miss anything, Congressman, because Frank Beals may not have been working alone."

Tony nodded. Although the vapor he was inhaling seemed to be helping with the coughing, it was nauseating, and Tony hoped he wasn't going to throw up. He watched Fornell step out into the corridor to talk in low tones with a couple of men. With their short hair, and telltale bulges of concealed weapons under their dark suit jackets, there was no mistaking them for being anything but FBI.

Once the medicine had done its work, Tony felt a lot better. "Would you know if my Dad is around?" he asked Ramona, when she came by to check on him.

"Sorry, hon. I think he already left the hospital. Such a charming man." The nurse seemed a bit in awe of Senator DiNozzo.

Already knowing that he shouldn't get his hopes up, Tony asked, "Is he coming back?"

"I'm sorry, Senator DiNozzo didn't say. I did hear him talking to an administrator about getting you the best room possible." Ramona smiled as if she thought Senior was the best dad ever. "He visited with you soon after you were brought in…You don't remember?"

"Oh…yeah." So it hadn't been a dream that someone was by his side, comforting him. Despite being disappointed that it hadn't been Jethro, Tony smiled charmingly at the nurse. "Guess I was out of it. I'm sensitive to a lot of meds. They made me sort of loopy." At least the old man had been there, but Tony was disappointed his father hadn't waited long enough for him to wake up, if only to say good-bye.

Ramona eyed Tony, and she must have sensed he was upset, because she said, "I'm sure the Senator will be back as soon as he's able. I think he said he had important business he had to take care of. Would you like me to see if we can reach him for you?"

Tony could tell that the nurse assumed that Senior wouldn't have left his side unless it was for something very important. Tony sighed. He should be grateful that Dad had been there at all. "No…no, don't trouble yourself. I'm fine. Hey, I'll be out of here soon." He hated that he was acting like a little kid, wishing his dad were there. It was stupid, expecting his old man might actually be concerned, for once. "It's okay," he mumbled.

It wasn't like Senior had ever been any good at taking care of anyone except himself, anyway. The old man had always been hands-off, although he was pretty good at making calls to get things done. Senior liked to say that knowing the right people and having their private phone numbers handy was only half the job. The important thing was knowing when to deal with it yourself, and when to call in a favor. "It's like playing poker." Tony had always believed that his father's charm, and his little black book, had been more instrumental in getting him elected to the Senate than his conservative stance.

Ramona adjusted Tony's pillow and pulled the embarrassing hospital gown further up his chest, covering the wires of the heart monitor. "You need anything, just push this button," she said, pointing out the location of the call button. "We monitor you from the nurse's station just out there, but I'll be checking on you every few minutes, okay?"

"I'll be fine," Tony whispered. He closed his eyes and told himself they were pricking from lack of sleep. He was so very tired, hadn't really slept since this ordeal had begun, and he hadn't eaten anything for days…except at Jethro's, and he'd gone and thrown most of that up. His head was swimming and his fingers felt funny, a sign they'd given him the kind of pain meds he didn't tolerate well, or else it was too high a dose. Either way, it was too much of a good thing, and the medication was making it difficult for him to keep his emotions under control.

Wendy would have told those doctors exactly what they could do with their plans to stick a tube down his throat. But she wasn't there, wasn't by his side, and never would be again. They were getting a divorce. Their marriage of a dozen years was over; it had been for a long time, really, only he'd been slow to accept it. She wasn't even coming to make sure he was all right after going through the trauma of being kidnapped. What was it he'd overheard earlier? She'd decided to avoid the media circus, he thought sourly. Funny, considering she'd chosen investigative reporting as her second career.

He didn't have anyone in his corner any more, nobody to stick up for him, to tell the doctors that the painkillers they were giving him didn't agree with him, made him feel like he wanted to crawl out of his skin, but drained of energy at the same time. And who was going to fetch his clothes to wear when he left the hospital? He would have to get hold of Lydia, who was the best press secretary anyone ever had. She would do anything for him, and she had a spare key to his place in downtown Baltimore – although she'd never used it.

Tony turned his head a little and his eyes slowly focused on a large plastic bag bearing the hospital's logo sitting on a chair. He recognized the red hoodie that Jethro had given him sticking out, the one with MARINES emblazoned across the chest. Must be the clothes he wore coming in. They would have cut them off him, and the thought of Jethro's hoodie getting cut up and stuffed in a plastic bag was almost too much for him.

Tony mumbled, "Jethro'd tell you all where to go." Only Jethro wasn't there. By now, his newfound friend would already be back home, feeding his horses and happy to get back to his normal, peaceful life at Kelly Brook Farm.

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

"You have a good shiner there, but there is no damage to the eye itself, and no fracture of the orbit." Dr. Mason checked Tony's heart and lungs, and assessed the swelling to his neck – which so far was minor – and had a consultation with a respiratory specialist he called in.

The specialist, who looked like he couldn't have been more than eighteen, was going on about compromised airways and the possibility of edematous swelling and recommended intubation, speaking as if Tony wasn't present. He wore a badge that identified him as Dr. Doug Howse, so just for fun, Tony repeatedly called him 'Doogie', to see how many times he could get Dr. Howse to correct him. So far Tony had racked up four points. He decided to go for five. "Dr. Doogie…?"

"That's Dr. Howse, Mr. DiNozzo."

The young doctor didn't get it. Apparently he didn't watch reruns of old TV shows. Tony caught Ramona's eye and it was obvious that she knew what he was up to. He laughed, even if it brought on another painful bout of coughing.

Finally, Doogie left, and Dr. Mason determined it was safe to remove the cervical collar used to stabilize Tony's neck. When Tony sighed in relief, the doctor warned him that although the muscles and nerves were not as badly damaged as they'd feared, he needed to move slowly.

Thankfully, the scans showed his spine had not been injured from when he'd been held in a chokehold. "You're very lucky, Mr. DiNozzo. Your larynx and trachea are undamaged, but blunt trauma to the neck region can cause swelling hours after the event," Dr. Mason warned. "I advise you keep talking to a minimum. And, should you have any difficulty breathing, or have trouble swallowing, alert someone right away. We will, of course be monitoring you closely overnight, and in the morning we'll reassess your case."

"Overnight? No, no." Tony cautiously shook his head. He was glad to be rid of the collar but now his neck felt oddly vulnerable. He rubbed the muscles and said, "Seriously, Doc, I can…recuperate just as well...or better, at home." Tony punctuated his sentence with a cough, which wasn't helping his case any.

The doctor wasn't buying it. No big surprise there.

"Your temperature is up and your pressure is down, Mr. DiNozzo. Most likely as a result of being given large doses of tranquilizers, and being kept in less than favorable accommodations for several days. Agent Fornell tells me that the trailer you were kept in was damp and had signs of mold. We need to keep an eye on you, and take precautions against pneumonia," Dr. Mason said.

So they'd found where he'd been held for five days. Tony put on his serious face and asked, "Is this a side-effect of the unfreezing?"

Ramona giggled and, when Dr. Mason looked at her for an explanation, she blushed and explained, "Oh, it's from Austin Powers. Post-cryogenics."

"Ah…We'll get you settled upstairs as soon as possible, Congressman." Dr. Mason turned to the nurse with further instructions, and soon left to attend another patient.

Tony shared a smile with Ramona. At least he had one person who seemed to understand him.

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

Tony was still waiting for a room, or the chance to escape, whichever presented itself first. Whatever meds they'd given him earlier was wearing off. Everything was either throbbing or aching, from his knuckles to his eyeballs. His teeth itched and his mouth tasted sour, and what he really needed about now was a handful of Tylenol. Actually, what he really needed was to be at home in his own bed. It felt like it had been a month since he'd been there, not less than a week. But first, he planned to enjoy a steaming hot shower. Yeah, he'd break out a big bar of Kilauea lava soap to scour off the filth that was still clinging to his body. It was going to take more than one shower – and whole case of pumice – to rid himself of the unclean feeling he had from being handled by Him.

First, before any more time passed, Tony needed to find out what had happened to the man who had rescued him. If he'd already been discharged…well, Tony knew where to find him, at Kelly Brook Farm.

A nurse, who Tony hadn't seen before, came in and checked his vitals. When she was done, she smiled and said, "Looks like you're good to go, Congressman."

"Where'm I going?"

"You're being transferred upstairs, to the private wing. They're going to take very good care of you."

Tony asked, "Have you seen Jethro? Don't want to miss him." His voice was so hoarse that she had to lean close to understand what he was saying. "Jethro Gibbs," Tony repeated.

The woman apologized, "I'm sorry, I don't know…"

Just as Tony made another attempt at communication, the privacy curtain twitched and FBI Agent Fornell appeared. He looked Tony over carefully as he said, "We had to make sure the room they're moving you to is secure. We're ready to move now."

"You seen him?"

"Yeah, he's getting discharged right now. It looks like he'll be going home."

That was good. It took a bit of effort but Tony managed to sit up, one hand clamped around the metal safety rail so he didn't fall back. "I need to see him. You take me to him," Tony said in the most authoritative voice he could summon.

"Now you hang on there, son. The only place you're going is up to a VIP medical suite, where it's secure," Fornell said firmly.

"I'm fine, and I'm not in any danger," Tony insisted, trying not to cough. "I'm good enough," he said stubbornly. Both the nurse and the FBI agent looked at him skeptically. Okay, so he was panting a bit from the effort of sitting up, but he was sure he could walk out of here on his own, once he disengaged himself from the wires and tubes attached to his body. Tony pulled at the IV stuck in his arm, just to see if it would slip out, but all he gained was a reprimand from the nurse.

"Congressman, you need to lie down," she admonished, eyeing a rapidly beeping monitor above Tony's head.

"I need to see him…make sure Jethro's…all right," Tony said, a dry cough punctuating his words.

The nurse tried to calm Tony down as she taped the needle more securely to his arm. "Look, if you lie back and relax, I will locate your friend…Jethro?"

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs," Fornell supplied. "I'll keep an eye on the Congressman," he assured the concerned woman. Fornell showed her his credentials. "I need to talk to him, anyway. Official business."

The nurse looked dubiously at Fornell. "You can talk, but not him. Doctor's orders."

Fornell turned to Tony and repeated, with a smirk, "No talking."

"Fine," Tony agreed, his voice a whisper. His throat was suffering from too much speaking, anyway, and if he weren't careful he'd end up with no voice at all. Fornell indicated that Tony should lie back, and although Tony tried to behave as if it was his own choice, rather than a necessity, he was glad to be lying down again. It was clear that the FBI agent wasn't fooled by Tony's act, but he didn't say anything more about it, for which Tony was grateful.

As soon as the nurse exited, Fornell pulled up a stool. "I have a few questions." He sounded apologetic.

Tony indicated his throat. "I can't…" The thought of going into detail about the events surrounding his kidnapping was too much to bear. "You already know…"

"Just nod yes or no. The field team located the trailer where you were held. It's sitting on land that's been abandoned. They're starting to gather evidence, and as soon as you're settled here, I'll go and oversee the operation." He cleared his throat and said, "Gibbs told me that you said that Beals placed a call to someone shortly before you escaped. Any idea who that was?"

Tony shrugged. He didn't have any idea, as he'd already told Fornell, when they were still at Jethro's home.

"Gibbs gave me a preliminary statement while they were stitching him up." Before Tony could ask any questions, Fornell added, "They extracted some glass from his back. He'll be fine."

Tony snorted. No doubt the federal agent's idea of fine, and Jethro's as well, was similar to his own.

Fornell opened his mouth as if to say something, and after a moment of indecision, he said, "He was asking after you."

It was becoming increasingly more difficult to remain mute, but Tony knew that the surprised look on his face told Fornell what he was thinking.

"Sure. Jethro tends to feel responsible for people, more than was ever required in the line of duty," Fornell explained.

"You mean victims," Tony said in a soft voice, unable to remain silent.

"I guess. But friends, too. He's as loyal as they come." After a pause, Fornell repeated, "Who did Beals call?"

Tony shook his head. He had no idea, just an impression. "His boss? Partner in crime?" Fornell waited for more, so Tony said slowly, "Someone older maybe. Never heard a name. He seemed… intimidated." It struck him that nobody had mentioned the ransom. "The money? Who picked it up?" He swallowed, and then covered his mouth as he coughed.

Fornell poured him some water and added a straw to the plastic tumbler. He watched, making sure Tony could drink without choking, before saying, "A teenager was paid a couple hundred bucks to make the pickup. He then tossed it off a pedestrian overpass, onto a truck waiting on the road underneath." Before Tony could ask, Fornell said, "Stolen vehicle, a weak ID on the make and model, and we're not certain if it was even Beals who picked up the cash. We're working on it, but until we can say with absolute certainty that Frank Beals was working alone, we can't risk that his partner might try to do you some harm."

"You got someone in mind?" Although it was technically possible that Beals had been working with someone else, Tony was under the impression that the kidnapping was Beals' idea alone.

Fornell studied his hands for a moment and then asked, "Are you aware that Senator DiNozzo had several phone conversations over the past few weeks with Frank Beals' mother, Marian Tozier?"

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~