AN: Thanks to all for the reassurance... astrafiammante for her wise words, and the kind anonymous guest who said that Gibbs says it to himself, and if it makes sense to him, he does it... and many other people who supplied rather profound analyses of the old B... lovely!
Thanks, as ever, as I always say, to all who reviewed but weren't logged in.
And, as a passionate fan of le Tour de France – on now, which is why you've not been getting fast updates – let me say if you haven't seen Belleville Rendezvous (yes, yes, Tony types, originally titled Les Triplettes de Belleville,) do! (The other film I mentioned in my first AN, Withnail and I has cult status in GB, BR has cult status in Europe, but I've no idea if it's popular in the US or anywhere else – I may be preaching to the converted here.)
Cowboy Tony Rides Again
Chapter 9
"We want to wait, Dad!"
"I know, Adam... the thing is, I'd like to get out of here first chance I can, and start writing all this up for the News..."
"Or resting for a while until you feel up to it," Mary said accusingly, from her position in the doorway of the ambulance.
"Or resting awhile," Simon added with exaggerated meekness; he loved it when Mary went protective. Stoppit... "But to take either option, I need clothes. And I have no idea where my wet ones went." One of the EMTs laughed, and handed Mary a black plastic sack, (that squished in a disgustingly moist way as she peered into it and put it on the ground,) then moved back to helping her colleague unload the other gurney, where Tony slept quite comfortably under his oxygen mask, his breathing much easier by now.
"Phew... Looks like Tony's stuff's in here too... Your Dad's right, Adam. Come on, it'll only take five minutes... I need you to show me where to find everything – I can't just be going through his underwear drawer, can I?"
"He wouldn't mind," Adam said off-handedly, and his father cringed. "OK, Dad," he added with grown-up reassurance, "we'll be right back." He cast one slightly anxious look at Tony, and went back to the truck with the tiny engineer. Simon sat on his gurney, bare legs dangling over the side, hugging his blanket, until the EMTs came back for him.
Gibbs stayed outwardly calm for Simon Townley's sake; the poor guy looked as though he'd actually chewed right through the end of his tether. "Where's DiNozzo right now?"
"They took him for x-rays, and to set his arm. There was only one emergency team on duty, Gibbs. You can see, it's a tiny hospital. They gave me these scrubs and the robe to wear, and a rather casual check, which was OK, because I'd rather they looked at Tony anyway. They couldn't find any broken bones, and said they'd send someone in to treat the abrasions -"
Gibbs regarded him doubtfully. "They done that?"
"Not so's you'd notice. Maybe they can't find me... They said to rest until the drip had run, and then I could go. So I settled down to just chill until Adam and Mary got back. Tony was in the next cubicle..."
Lord help anyone who wanted privacy, he thought as he rested his head back on the pillows, trying to will away the pain of a hundred bruises. I can hear every word from next door. Never mind, I want to know how he's doing...
"Mr. Dean? Hmm...? Mr Denoes?" The nurse sounded slightly waspish, Simon wasn't clear why, except that she seemed to be putting a gown on Tony, and getting very little co-operation. He could hear his friend's low, morphine-sloshed murmur, but couldn't make out what he was saying. "Can you hear me? What are you laughing about?" The nurse didn't get an answer, and harrumphed. "I'll go and see what's keeping Doctor Froome." Simon heard her sensible shoes clumping out.
Tony had repeatedly told the paramedics he didn't want the morphine, but they'd persuaded him to take the shot in the end because fighting the pain in his arm wasn't helping his breathing. Now, Simon would have chuckled at the result if things had been different. After a while a grin did creep onto his face... that sound was singing, and he understood the why of it.
"... finir ma vie a Katmandoooo... la la la something un Guroooo..." Tony burbled, "j'veux etre givree... trip-le-ment givree..."
"I don't think his French is much good, Agent Gibbs... but he likes the film, so he must have picked up some of the song if he's watched it more than once... you know Tony and movies," he trailed off, as Gibbs spread his hands and shook his head blankly.
"'Belleville Rendezvous'... it is a good film... French, animation, 2002. Won awards at Cannes..."
Gibbs thoughts, growing uneasier by the moment, found a resting place. Another DiNozzo he thought, for the second time that day... was the world ready for it? No wonder these two hit it off.
"I knew she reminded me of someone... That nurse – she really does look just like one of the triplets... these singers... characters from the movie." He looked round nervously, in case the lady in question should materialise. "Blowsy, toothy, middle-aged, fading." He sighed. "She should have been able to recognise a reaction to morphine if I could. But I think she was too busy taking offence."
Gibbs almost smiled. Townley seemed to have something of that talent that Tony had, of connecting facts in an instant. He'd have made a good agent...
Two sets of footsteps returned after a short while."He either can't or won't answer me, Doctor. There's an abrasion here on his temple; there's possibly concussion if there's been a blow to the head. The EMTs said they were brought down from New Dam in a truck... apparently they fell down the face of it."
"Not concussed," Tony's voice said, more strongly than before.
"Ah, so you're awake, Mr...er... has the paperwork been done, Nurse Kirton?"
"We'd given our names to the EMTs, and they gave them to the nurses at their station. Beyond that, nobody had asked us anything. At least they didn't want to know if we had the means to pay!"
"DiNozzo... Anthony DiNozzo... I'm not... concussed. And we didn't... fall... got washed down... by the water."
(It wasn't that important, Tony told people later, but the dismissive tone nettled him, since they and their hospital wouldn't still be here but for the efforts of the team, and FDA. And Doris...)
Simon frowned in alarm. The morphine was wearing off, the pain was increasing, and Tony's breathing was becoming laboured again.
"Er... washed down the dam... I see..." The doctor's tone clearly implied that he didn't see, and didn't believe either. "Did you inhale any water?"
"A little. I coughed it all up later."
"Well, we'll send you for some x-rays, see what that head wound's about... then we'll monitor you for twenty-four hours to check on your lungs; I'll prescribe a sedative to help you to rest -"
"No!" That was sharp enough to produce an offended 'oh!' from the nurse. "No sedative."
"But Mr. Di... DiNozzo... "
"I couldn't believe what he said then... Gibbs, is it true he's had pneumonic plague? Fifteen percent survival rate? I mean, I don't disbelieve him, but..."
Gibbs nodded solemnly. "I'll explain later... go on."
"I didn't know... I couldn't say anything. Damn..."
"I've had Y. Pestis and... recovered. Obviously. I've been taught... exactly how to monitor... my own lungs. I've not... got ARDS, and I'll recognise... the slightest signs as long as I stay awake. No sedative."
The nurse's voice was patronising. "That can't be right, dear, you're upsetting yourself over nothing. Y. Pestis is the plague. Bubonic plague. Nobody gets that, you must be mixing it up with something else. We know how to monitor you, just leave it to us."
"Pneumonic. I'm not... your dear. I'm Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo... I'm not getting ARDS, and I don't want a sedative." That all came out in one breath, as Tony fought to stay in control. "I have got -" his voice broke off in a sudden loud cry of pain, and a four letter word.
"What was -" the doctor's voice was cut off; Tony's was breathless, and furious.
"A broken arm, which... you... just... aahh... shiiiiit..."
"I was trying to reassure him," the nurse said lamely, talking to the doctor rather than the patient. Hardly reassuring, Simon thought, and heaved himself off the bed. Grabbing the bag of saline from the stand, he lurched towards the next cubicle, as he heard the doctor saying, "This'll hold him." He dragged the curtain aside in time to see the syringe being removed from the canula in Tony's hand. The agent gave up his fierce struggling and fell limply back.
Simon's fists clenched and he forced them to relax. "She must have squeezed his arm. How stupid's that? They asked me if it was true about the Y. Pestis – I said I had no idea, but he was a federal agent, and he wouldn't lie about something like that, and why had they gone against his wishes. Damn, I wish I'd known... I could have put them right. Damn, Agent Gibbs, I'd have loved to put them right! They repeated that he was probably concussed and 'not clear in his mind'."
He glared at Gibbs, having no-one else to glare at. The older marine just nodded encouragingly.
"I said I'd sit with him and keep an eye on him. They said that wouldn't be necessary. I said I'd stay anyway. They said I couldn't. I said why not – they just looked at me like they were calculating how quickly they could sedate me. I needed to sit, my legs were going, so I let them shepherd me back to my cubicle. I heard them walking away. I think the nurse said something about out-of-towners, claiming to have the plague and claiming to be federal agents... The doctor said he'd have him moved up to x-ray, and to let him know when someone had tracked down our records."
He sighed angrily, and again, Gibbs simply waited, trying to reassure just by being there. "I live here, dammit... all they had to do was ask the name of my MD. I could have helped with Tony's information too. If they hadn't sedated him they could have asked him! Was just getting up to go to him again when someone came to take him. I came out here... no-one tried to stop me." He paused for breath.
"When did you last eat? Or drink?" Gibbs asked quietly. After hearing Simon's tale, he was boiling inside, and beginning to look forward to ripping somebody's ears off, but first things first.
"Had a coffee at FDA... before that," he thought, "yeah, it's been a long time since breakfast!"
"Ya still got my phone?"
Simon gave a rueful grin and fished it out of the pocket of the towelling robe. "Never let go of it!" He handed it over.
Gibbs stood, and clapped him on the shoulder. "Wait here, OK?"
The younger man looked at the pole and the almost-empty bag of saline. "Not going anywhere."
There had to be some vending machines somewhere... as Gibbs hunted, he hit speed dial.
"Jethro -"
"Ducky.. really need your help right now -"
"Yes, Jethro, I understand... we're making the best time we can – I have to admit that Bradley's driving somewhat resembles your own – and we are doing our best, but we are still perhaps twenty minutes away. How is Anthony? And the other young man?"
"You're on your way? And Dr. Pitt? How -"
"Why, Timothy called, of course! I gather it was the first thing he did after regaining control of the situation... which I might add has only been partially explained to me... but it was Anthony, and the the possibility of drowning was mentioned, so I called Bradley to ask him to be on standby for his invaluable advice. I have to say I wasn't in the least surprised when he dropped what he was doing and came to pick me up. Be patient, Jethro, we're nearly there. Again, how is Anthony?"
Nice work, McGee... Gibbs almost began to whack himself over the head thinking that he should have thought of Ducky, but at the time, he recalled, he'd been up to his knees in a river, and then he'd handed his cell over to Simon. He realised that since that point there was a gap in his knowledge. By the time he'd learned what he could, and explained what he knew so far to an increasingly angry medical examiner – "Sedation was the last thing he needed – and before any proper examination was carried out – how can the patient assist if he's non-responsive? And really, depressing his central nervous system at a time like -" "I know, Duck. Just hurry, huh?" – he'd tracked down coffee, of sorts, hot chocolate and a couple of packs of oat-cakes. As he got back to Simon Townley, he saw he'd been joined by a young lady with a note pad.
"... got all that then. I do apologise, Mr. Townley, as I said, they told me to get your information but they didn't tell me where to find you. I thought you'd be getting treatment, so I went to radiography first and then the plaster room, then round the wards... now I can send for your details right away – and your friend's." She hurried off.
Simon accepted the food and hot drink with a wry smile of thanks. As he began to eat, Gibbs said carefully, "You said Tony wasn't doing so well... d'you mean how they were treating him?"
"Partly. I don't know anything about medicine 'cept what I learned in the Corps... but it seems stupid to me to sedate someone when you've not finished examining them..."
"Help's on the way." Gibbs explained briefly.
"Competent help," Simon said. "Thank chr- heavens for that."
Gibbs looked at him. "What else?" his prompt was quiet, but insistent. Simon hesitated.
"It's where his head's at that worries me most."
Gibbs took a deep breath. OK... there was nothing he could do for Tony right now but wait for Ducky to arrive, and listen. "Go on."
"Did he ever tell you how Adam and I met him? No? Why does that not surprise me." He told Gibbs what had happened more than a year ago now, before the rescue at Belinda's Mill. "He understood. A couple of words, and I could see he did. He couldn't have helped better than he did... And all of that time, I had no idea he had issues of his own to deal with, because he hides things so well. He was ready in an instant to help a couple of strangers, and never gave a hint that he could do with a friend himself..."
The young Marine ran a hand through his hair. "I tried to be one. It wasn't just that I owed him... we got on well, we could have been real friends."
"Ya saying you're not?"
"Chance, as they say, would be a damn fine thing. We've talked on the phone. We've emailed. But almost every time we've tried to actually meet up, you've had a case, or your Director's wanted something. Didn't matter what day, what time we tried – he seemed to be working twenty-four seven. We hadn't actually seen him since way before Christmas. So this morning, when Mary calls me and says he's here, in Appelt, at the dam, me and Adam shoot over there, hoping to find him in a bit better shape than last time we saw him."
"But he wasn't."
"No, he wasn't." He frowned despairingly. "Up on that dam, when the sluice opened, he told me to get out. Go save Adam. I said 'what about you', he said he didn't matter. Couldn't figure it. Next thing is, we're floating down the river, having this weird conversation... he thought he was going to drown, and only decided he didn't want to when he got to the bottom of the river. I asked him if he'd wanted to die, and he said 'not that specific' – which I took to mean he hadn't cared one way or the other."
Gibbs sighed. "Yeah... In the end he would... care... DiNozzo's not a quitter."
"What's going on? In the ambulance he told me 'a girl'... told me to go out and get Mary, and swore it wasn't your fault." He looked him in the eyes. A year ago I wouldn't have believed him."
Gibbs winced. Ouch. "I've made my peace with him... seems you're still mad at me." So's Sally Frame.
"I don't know... do I need to be?"
"I shoulda done more..." Gibbs looked into his empty coffee cup. "I told Sally it wasn't my story to tell. Told one of the team off on the way here for demanding details she wasn't entitled to unless Tony told her himself, and so far he's not been keen to... I can see I'm gonna have to say something." He told Simon just why and howTony had been working twenty-four seven, and how it had all blown up, literally. "I suspected what was going on. Should've told him I knew. Or told the Director to stuff it. Made her buy him a new Mustang, but that's kinda -"
He searched for the words, somehow he baulked at saying 'not going to mend a broken heart', and was surprised, and not, when the younger man understood.
"It's not going to mend the damage done to him. Why didn't you do something?"
Gibbs shook his head. "Wasn't sure... was waiting for him to come to me... hell, hindsight's easy. Yeah... I shoulda done something."
"You're gonna have to do something now."
"Yeah, guess I am."
TBC