"Thanks for nothing." Gibbs slammed his cellular phone closed, tempted to throw the device into the nearest wall of the hospital waiting room. As he raised his arm, he noticed a stunned toddler staring at him, mouth open in shock. He slowly lowered his hand and removed the angry expression from his face.
"Make sure you hire good people to work with when you're older," Gibbs advised the wide-eyed child, who nodded before sprinting for her parents.
I need more coffee…Gibbs thought, scrubbing his hands over his face. Was it not bad enough that he had been getting these stupid letters in the mail? Now, Tony was in the hospital? Considering he didn't believe in coincidences, something was…hinky, as Abby would say. Speaking of the Goth, he pulled out his phone and dialed the lab on the way to the cafeteria.
"Gibbs, I am overworked and underpaid. I don't need an assistant, 'cause we all know that didn't work out so well last time, but I need someone who knows the Law of Abby and can push my soldiers like only I can—"
"Abs," Gibbs interrupted.
"A clone! That's a great idea—that way we can help Tony twice as fast! But we're only going to clone me 'cause you know what happens when clones clone themselves…well, maybe you don't, but those of us who actually make it to the theater more than once a year—"
"AB-BY!"
"Gibbs! I know what you're going to say, so don't, but I can't help it—I'm going Section Eight in here! It's been eight hours and my babies have nothing! They haven't dinged all morning! They know this is important, and that we have to help Tony, but they are choosing to take their sweet time…How's Tony doing? He's going to be alright, right, Gibbs? I mean, he's Tony! He survived everything—he's got more lives that a cat! Oh God, Gibbs! Tell me he'll be okay…"
"He's still unconscious. They pumped his stomach last night and sent the contents to the lab for analysis. He's on mild painkillers which should make his first few conversations pretty interesting…" Gibbs could hear Abby grinning over the line despite the dire situation. "Haven't been able to locate the doctor yet to give me an update."
"Call me when he wakes up. I want to be there when he comes around..." She stopped as a faint ding sounded.
"You got something?" As soon as Tony had collapsed, Gibbs had had Abby collect all the remaining drinks at the pub and take them to her lab for analysis.
The death metal which had been blaring over the line and was disrupting Abby's speech suddenly stopped and there was complete silence on the line.
"Abby?" Gibbs questioned, his impatience replaced by genuine concern.
"Gibbs," Abby's usually bubbly voice was low and emotionless.
"What's wrong Abs?"
"Tony's drink was spiked with nerium oleander—there was enough of it in his beer to kill a Clydesdale. It's the most deadly poison on earth Gibbs! Just, like, ten leaves will kill you almost instantly! He's lucky he didn't finish the entire bottle…"
"Thanks Abs," Gibbs sighed, his stomach clenching as he digested the news. He pulled the phone away from his ear in an attempt to hang up.
"Oh, Gibbs. That's not all. Your drink was drugged as well. You're lucky you didn't get a chance to drink yours…" her voice took on a suspicious note, "why didn't you finish your drink, anyway?"
Gibbs contemplated the previous night before responding. "The tap was broken and the bartender had to call someone to fix it. By the time it came, DiNozzo had already left."
"Jeez, Gibbs. You'd better send your guardian angel a thank you card and maybe convince him or her to help watch Tony's six on occasion. Our favorite Italian could use all the help he could get…"
"That all, Abs?"
"Nope. I got some good news. No one else's drink was poisoned. Just yours and Tony's," Abby continued.
"Lucky us," Gibbs muttered, but Abby was not paying attention.
"But I have some bad news too: there are absolutely no identifying marks on the letters you gave me earlier this week. I can tell you the font and the dimensions of the paper, but that's it! There isn't even a watermark in the paper that I could trace! It's completely standard and could be picked up from any stationary store! We caught a small—I mean, we're talking miniscule—break though: it was postmarked here in D.C. I gave the postal code to McGee and maybe he can pick up something from the security footage...Tony is going to be okay, right, Gibbs? I mean, this is nothing compared to the plague, and he survived that, but he didn't come to work for weeks on end and it was really lonely without him…"
"Agent Gibbs!" Gibbs whirled around, seeing a petite nurse standing directly behind him. "The doctor is looking for you."
"Call you later, Abs," Gibbs hung up the line, following the nurse back to the waiting room.
"Agent Gibbs. I'm Doctor Damon and am in charge of treating your friend." The doctor held out his hand to Gibbs.
"Doctor," Gibbs nodded curtly. "How's Di—How's Tony?"
"Mr. DiNozzo ingested a small amount of nerium oleander, one of the deadliest poisons on the planet. He is extremely lucky he remained conscious for as long as he did. He will need a few days rest, other than that, he should make a full recovery; we pumped his stomach just in time."
Gibbs let out the breath he had unconsciously been holding. "Thank you Doctor. When can I see him?"
"He's coming around as we speak. Room 301. I have a suspicion you know your way around this place, if Agent DiNozzo's medical records are any indication."
"Thank you, Doctor," Gibbs repeated, heading to Tony's room and taking his usual seat next to Tony's bed. He watched the steady rise and fall of his agent's chest, taking comfort in the fact that Tony was still breathing.
That bastard that had tried to tried to poison them was going to pay.
The bright sun on Tony's face slowly brought him back to consciousness. Even before he opened his eyes, something felt…hinky. He had this nagging sensation, not dissimilar to the one he had felt a few days ago. The busy week had limited his time at home, meaning as the days got longer and the case got more confusing, the paranoia had drifted to the recesses of his mind. He had no longer felt the prickling sensation on the back of his neck whenever he was alone, and he'd hoped that meant that this whole mess was completely over…Apparently, he'd been wrong since that annoying feeling had just returned at full strength.
He opened his eyes to see the unfamiliar, completely sterile room that he knew was definitely not his apartment: he was not, nor would he ever be, a fan of the floral curtains which hung beside the window. He focused on his last memory: the bar, his keys, the almost instantaneous drive home, how he apparently had stopped breathing, and finally waking up in the ambulance.
Tony raised his head slightly to see his boss sitting forward in his customary chair, his elbows on his knees, staring silently at his agent.
"Were you watching me sleep, boss?" Tony rasped as he rested his head again on the incredibly uncomfortable pillow. "'Cause the last person who did that tried to slit my throat."
"How ya doing DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked seriously, while reclining back in his chair. He was relieved to see Tony's gallows humor was still in tact; his small quip, which was meant to divert attention from his current situation, reassured Gibbs that Tony was truly fine more than anything Doctor Damon could ever say. Plus, Tony was on painkillers, so Gibbs knew Tony's occasionally tactless wit would be even worse than usual. Despite the unfortunate circumstances in which they found themselves, Gibbs decided to respond sarcastically, giving Tony his desired response. "And no bullshit this time. I can read you like a book…not that it's a very interesting read."
Tony looked wounded for a moment before addressing Gibbs. "That hurts, boss. I stop breathing and you're cracking jokes about my life…Anyway, I know it's 'cos you care, not that you'd ever admit it…but that's beside the point," he added hurriedly as Gibbs fixed him with a steely glare. "Right, back to me. Well, I could say 'every day in every way I'm getting better and better', but I have a feeling that'd just piss you off," Tony grinned widely, vainly attempting to shake off that feeling that something was amiss. Just to reassure his subconscious, he glanced around the room, noting that he and Gibbs were its only occupants.
Temporarily satisfied, he returned his gaze to Gibbs who had a look of perpetual confusion on his face.
"Oh c'mon, Gibbs! You should have at least understood that reference! It was your era!"
"And what exactly is my 'era', DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, quirking an eyebrow. Yep, Tony was going to make a full recovery; even under the influence of strong painkillers after being drugged with the oleander plant, Tony was making obscure movie references.
"I'm not saying you're old boss, 'cause you're not, but—" Tony stopped mid-sentence, all the blood draining from his face as the events of his midnight visit hit him like a Gibbs-slap. Gibbs straightened up and reached for the red Call button.
"No, boss," Tony batted Gibbs' hand away from the button, trying to remove the horrified expression from his features. Tony proceeded to recount his visit from Mason to Gibbs who was completely lost in thought even after Tony stopped speaking.
"Boss, I know I'm on something, probably something strong, but believe me! I know he was here. I have a feeling he checked out my apartment earlier this week too; I had this hinky feeling but I didn't want to say anything about it, that's why I stayed at the office earlier this week. Seriously though, I'm perfectly fine now…Are you listening to me?" Tony turned to face Gibbs who hadn't said a word.
"I got a note, plain envelope, postmarked from D.C., with two words on it: 'I'm back'," Gibbs confessed, failing to acknowledge Tony's monologue.
Tony stared silently at Gibbs, miffed that his boss hadn't trusted him enough to tell him about letter. But then again, when did Gibbs tell him anything important? He had a plethora of examples sitting on the tip of his tongue: the Ari Haswari fiasco, the Bill Atlas incident, the Mike Granger debacle, the Maddie Tyler situation, etc, etc, etc. Each time, Gibbs had run off without informing the team of his plans, and none of them had ended pleasantly. With a deep sigh to collect himself, Tony forced those feelings away and replaced his blank expression. "And you were going to tell us about that…when, exactly?"
"Never. Didn't think they were serious. I sent it to Abby for evaluation as per SOP and forgot all about it. Then you got sick and…" Gibbs stopped, unable to finish his sentence. The words I was wrong just didn't roll easily off his tongue.
"I was what? When? How? It would have to have been at the bar, but I watching the incredibly attractive bartender the whole time 'cos last time I failed to watch a bartender open a drink, I woke up in the sewer…" Tony stared at Gibbs in disbelief, his mouth running automatically while he processed the new information. "And you don't forget anything. You even remembered the time when I first stayed over at your house and I—"
"D'ya want a head slap DiNozzo? 'Cause you're heading for one full force." Gibbs decided that that was enough joking and asinine comments. Painkillers or not, it was time for Tony to cowboy up and face the problem seriously.
"What are you going to do?" Tony asked quietly.
"Everything I can," Gibbs got up to leave. Tony flung off his sheet, ready to follow his boss. "No, not you. You're staying here," Gibbs turned around, putting his hands on Tony's shoulders and pushing his agent back into his bed. "If you get out of the bed while I'm around, I'll shoot you myself. And when I'm not here, there'll be an armed guard outside your door with orders to incapacitate anyone who fits your description that tries to leave."
"No way, boss," Tony struggled against Gibbs' firm grip. "You're not going without me! Who's going to watch your six?"
"I watched my own six long before you came along," Gibbs replied, flinging open the door and leaving.
The massive security guard, who should aptly be nicknamed Muscles, turned around from his post outside the door and had the gall to wave at Tony. "I'll be here all night," he growled, before about-facing and standing at attention.
Tony threw up his hands in frustration, yelping as the IV made its presence known again. Damn you Gibbs. He had the same helpless feeling when Gibbs had went undercover as the Gunnery Sergeant Alvin Thomas and had 'thought his vest was visible' thus failing to wear it. And there was the time when Gibbs went to visit Ari Haswari who had tried to blow him up. And then Gibbs had helped Lee all by his lonesome. Why couldn't Gibbs stop being the Lone Ranger and learn to trust his team, especially those who had worked with him for a decade? Even Batman lowered his guard in the Batcave with Alfred around!
His heart monitor starting shrieking as Tony's heart rate increased, a by-product of his frustration and anger. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself, putting down his hands and releasing his balled-up fists. As the heart monitor quieted, a small object fell from his left hand and landed on his sheet. Tony picked it up with two fingers and inspected it. It was a small gold band inlaid with a decently-sized diamond. He had seen this ring before…ten years ago.
Tony pulled the last evidence bag out of the bin from the Mason case. It was a tiny engagement ring belonging to Helen Jacobs, soon to be Helen Mason before the accident. He took the ring out of the bag and examined it, noting the fine engraving on the inner band: "Helen, you are my everything." Mason was apparently quite the romantic.
He sighed heavily and put the ring back into the bag. He browsed through the autopsy report on Helen locating the number for the next of kin. He hated informing the next of kin—the conversation was filled with weepy women and touching nostalgia about the deceased. He usually left this job for his partner Kenzie, but Kenzie had had a mandatory doctor's appointment today, damn him. He exhaled heavily before picking up the phone and dialing the number.
Screw his orders; he was going with his boss. But first, he needed clothes. Looking around for his possessions, he groaned loudly as he spotted them across the room.
He freed himself from the heart monitor and oxygen monitor before pulling out his IV, grimacing as the alarm sounded. He swung his legs off the bed and stood shakily, knowing he only had a few moments before the nursing staff swarmed his room. He stumbled to the wall, grabbing the bundle of clothes and the cell phone, undeterred by the squeak of the door and approaching march that could only belong to one person.
"DiNozzo, what the hell are you doing? You wanna add another bullet hole to your collection?" Gibbs boomed, his face a new shade of red.
"Argument with Vance?" Tony asked sarcastically while attempting to pull on his pants without exposing more skin that absolutely necessary, an almost impossible task thanks to the gaping back of his hospital gown.
"Something like that," Gibbs couldn't help grinning at Tony's clumsy attempt to clothe himself before immediately turning serious. "You're supposed to be in bed."
"And you're 'sposed to be finding Mason without me. Which brings us back to the beginning: I'm not lying in bed while you—" Tony started before he spied a doctor standing behind Gibbs. "What's he want?"
"I'm Doctor Damon. And I must ask you to get back in bed," the doctor ordered, pulling back the sheet. Tony opened his mouth to protest.
"Not a suggestion, DiNozzo," Gibbs growled.
"Getting back in bed, boss," Tony replied dutifully, grabbing his clothes and flopping back onto the hard rock that was doubling as a mattress.
"You'll need to stay for a few more hours for observation. Fortunately, you ingested a low dose of the oleander, so there will be no permanent damage. There will be temporary weakness and some typical lethargy until the poison works its way out of your system completely," he recited, flipping through the file. "Oh, this was left in your file. Some gentleman asked me to give it to you when you regained consciousness."
The doctor produced a small sheet of paper and handed it to Tony. The only thing written on the sheet was a phone number. By the time Tony had looked up, the doctor had mysteriously vanished, somehow without jarring the door which was only open a crack.
"You sure he's real, boss? He's freaking me out disappearing like that…" Tony commented as he turned on his phone. "Are you sure I can't leave? I mean, I've been in much worse scrapes than this and still returned to work. Just remember what would have happened if I hadn't come back to work after the plague one week earlier than I did: you wouldn't have McGee on your team anymore." Kate either, not that that mattered much. Tony thought, pausing for a moment to silently remembering his teammate. Beneath the strict, obedient, no-nonsense attitude, Kate was kind, honest and an excellent cook. As much as he enjoyed Ziva's company, no one could or would ever replace Caitlin Todd. Gibbs was equally silent, remembering the two years he was privileged to work with the Secret Service agent.
Gibbs continued after a moment, only answering Tony's first question, burying his feelings about Kate under the stoic mask he had worked so hard to construct. "He just tried to kill you. The safest place for you is here, especially with Officer Bryant outside your door. Metro's working the case under the stipulation that they keep us informed of all new evidence."
"He tried to kill you too, boss," Tony grumbled, but the look on Gibbs' face left no room for argument. "What are we supposed to do here?"
"Gee, DiNozzo, I don't know. Maybe we could call the number Mason was kind enough to leave," Gibbs suggested, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
"Right, boss. Stupid question. Next head-slap's on me." Tony responded while dialing the mystery number.
"Detective DiNozzo. Agent Gibbs," a gleeful voice taunted over the line. "Did you miss me?"
"Not really," Tony replied dryly. "What could you possibly want?"
"I want to know how you're feeling. I am glad they got your stomach pumped in time; our future activities would be no fun without your participation. I take it you found Helen's ring," Gibbs looked questioningly at Tony, who shrugged before producing the ring.
"Yep."
"Conversations over the phone are so…impersonal. Let's meet."
"Let's not," Tony responded smartly.
"Tsk, tsk, Detective DiNozzo—"
"It's Special Agent DiNozzo, now—I got promoted. Come down here and I'll show you my badge. We could catch up on the past ten years…"
"Glad to see you're the same overrated, smart-ass cop who killed my girlfriend ten years ago—"
"I didn't run her down," Tony interrupted.
"But you began the chain of events that led to her death. If you'd just let the case go, admitted I was better than you, she'd still be alive. You took away someone very important to me. But we'll have this conversation in person. Meet at the Red Line—"
"What's to stop us from sending Metro to arrest you this instant?" Tony questioned.
There was static as Mason pulled away from the phone. Tony and Gibbs heard sounds of struggle.
"DiNozzo?"
"Mike?" Tony was stunned to hear his former partner's voice crackling over the phone. "You okay?"
Kenzie didn't answer and there were more dragging sounds that decreased in volume until the line was completely silent.
"You didn't think I forgot about you, Agent Gibbs?" Mason returned, panting heavily but still managing to sound gleeful.
"Probie?" Gibbs' heart dropped into his stomach at Mike Franks' voice. "Don't listen to this bastard. He's got a few screws loose—" Franks was abruptly cut-off and replaced by a hard collision sound that left Tony and Gibbs flinching.
"That's why, Agent DiNozzo. Catch the Red Line at the Bethesda stop. You can be there in ten minutes, right?" Mason continued without listening for a response. "And I'd hurry. If one of you is missing, your former partners will die. No exceptions."
Weren't expecting that, were ya?
A/N: The Red Line is one branch of the Washington, D.C. subway. According to Google maps, it takes 5 minutes to drive from Bethesda Naval Hospital (where they are now) to the Bethesda stop of the Red Line.
Thanks for reading! Reviews appreciated!