AN: Thanks again to all reviewers who weren't logged in... and I really should have recognised the Chief's work in that one particular analysis of Gibbs!
I was thinking I might get a torrent of 'real doctors and nurses don't behave like that', and I must say I've never met one who did - and it's the second time DiNozzo's luck's had him falling victim to such a fate in one of my tales... no excuse, like writing about hydrodynamics. I just wanted to!
Cowboy Tony Rides Again
Chapter 10
"I'm gonna go find him," Gibbs said after a while. "Ya be all right here until I get back?"
"I'll come with you." He saw Gibbs' hesitation. "It's OK, I'll leave you both to it... I just want to know how he's doing." He began to tug at the tape holding the canula in his hand.
"Leave it a minute," Gibbs said quietly. What the hell was it about DiNozzo, that had this effect on everyone he met? He looked around, then fetched a couple of tissues from a box at the unmanned nurses' station. With a gentleness that astonished Simon, he removed the needle, and pressed down on the puncture with the folded tissues. After a moment or two he said "Let's go, then," and put his hand under the other Marine's elbow to help him to his feet. Simple to help, he thought ruefully. DiNozzo would have passed out from shock, (DiNozzos don't pass out, Boss...) if he'd ever done that for him. Their tough-love relationship worked, didn't it? Did it? Gonna have to bite the bullet and do somethin' different, Jethro.
"We were through here," Simon said, pushing open one of the double doors he'd wandered through, unchallenged, half an hour ago. He really didn't know what made him drop his voice to a whisper, but it turned out to be the right thing to do. "I was in there, Tony was in -" as he idly twitched the curtain away he stopped in astonishment. Tony was back in the cubicle, still sedated, with an oxygen mask, and a bright, white cast on his right forearm – a forearm that was laid, in its sling, across his ribs. If he was having breathing problems, that was such a help, Gibbs thought. Simon must have thought so too, as he opened his mouth to protest, but Gibbs suddenly made an urgent shushing gesture.
There were voices down the corridor, raised in enough agitation for them to hear clearly. Gibbs silently pulled his startled but unprotesting companion through the curtains into the empty cubicle next door. They waited.
"... some minor muscle damage from the broken end of the bone, that would have been very painful; we cast to above the elbow to immobilise the arm so it would be rested. Nothing came up on the skull pictures, that's fine. And considering his history, I was surprised to see nothing but some scarring on the lung x-rays."
"History?" That was Dr. Froome, rather sharply. "What history? And I didn't order a chest x-ray."
"Oh." The radiographer sounded surprised. "Well, his details came through, they're quite something, so I assumed you'd want that done. It's all here. We put him on oxygen just in case, by the way. Must get back."
Footsteps retreated, and a few moments after they'd died away, Dr. Froome swore.
"What is it, Doctor?"
Gibbs mouthed 'same two?' at Simon, who nodded. The doctor didn't answer, and there was a pause, while Nurse Kirton obviously looked for herself, as she gasped.
"He really has had the plague! I'll get some Flumazemil right away!"
"No."
"But... we should reverse the sedative -"
"And have him remember that we used it against his will? We'll keep him under a while longer, and if he remembers then we'll tell him he was confused. Give me some more Flurazepam in case he's coming out of it."
"More sedative? Doctor Froome, we can't -" her voice went up into a soprano squeak.
"Nurse Kirton, are you questioning my instructions?"
"No, Doctor, of course not." The nurse sounded acutely anxious, but clearly didn't have the nerve to argue any further. The footsteps approached, and entered the cubicle where Tony slept.
"Damn," the doctor said, "his hand's underneath the cast." Gibbs' eyes widened – that hadn't been so a moment ago when they'd looked in. Sedated, flat on his back, the kid was still thinking on his feet; the lump that rose in Gibbs' throat took a lot of swallowing down. "Lift his arm, nurse, so I can get at that canula."
"Don't think so," Simon said cheerfully as he and Gibbs pushed their way through the curtain, to see the nurse with her hands up to her mouth, and the doctor standing almost theatrically with the syringe held up in mid-air. Nurse Kirton lowered her hands slowly with relief all over her face, but she couldn't think of anything to say.
For a moment there was a stunned silence, until a voice from the bed said lazily, and without the mask, which was round his neck, "Si... Great timing. Boss -" and only then, Gibbs noted with pride, did his eyes fly open. He looked up at him with absolute trust."I want out of here. Right now."
"You got it, son."
"McGee... Ziva... Mary and Adam -" he looked at Simon - "Doris...?"
"Everyone's fine. You did good... you all did good."
"You can't -" the doctor began, but Gibbs silenced him with a look.
"Giving medication to a patient who clearly states he doesn't want it and why not constitutes assault," he said in his most formal voice.
"He was confused," the doctor began again.
"No I wasn't."
"No he wasn't."
Tony and Simon spoke at the same moment.
"I was right next door, remember?" the Marine added, and the doctor looked a bit sick when he remembered the truth of that.
"You were about to commit assault for the second time," Gibbs went on, "and to intimidate the nurse into being your accomplice," Nurse Kirton began to look even more relieved, until Gibbs went on, "for the second time." He didn't feel guilty, it was a very brave nurse who went against conditioning and doctor's orders; he didn't think they'd be able to prove anything against her, and he had seen her relieved look, but he wasn't letting her off the hook until he had to. Nobody messed with his team... nobody messed with DiNozzo. Now he just had to let him know that.
He turned back to his second, and noted with satisfaction that the word that had slipped out unbidden had nevertheless registered with Tony. The younger man looked vaguely distracted. He'd back off from it slightly for now; there was more harm than good to be done by piling emotional baggage haphazardly onto someone who was already sinking under the weight of it. He reached through into the next cubicle and brought out a pillow.
"He –" jerking his thumb over his shoulder – "doesn't get near you again." As he went on speaking, he lifted his SFA's cast-encumbered arm and moved it very gently off his ribs and to the side, and Simon pushed the pillow underneath. The injured man smiled and gave a pleased sigh as the weight was eased. "But I want you to do something for me."
Tony's smile grew uncertain, but the trust was still there. "I got you, Boss."
"'Right now' is when Ducky's had a look at you. And Dr. Pitt. So we know exactly what 'right now' should be."
Tony's face fell, although he tried not to make anything of it. "OK, Boss... but it could be hours, and we don't know if Brad –"
"Yeah, we do, DiNozzo." He looked at his watch. "I figure they'll be here..." he listened, "about now."
The double doors swished quietly. "... but no, Bradley, that's certainly not the oddest incident with a glue gun than I've ever encountered... I'm sure you must have many tales yourself from your days as a young intern in an emergency room... we've all been there. Ah, here we are." Both doctors knew what had happened, and Ducky's penchant for the dramatic was not to be denied. "I see you're in safe hands, Anthony... How fortunate, Doctor, that you didn't need to give the Flumazamil, since the patient had already regained consciousness." He peered at the syringe, still in Dr. Froome's hand, and his voice grew magnificent. "Flurazepam? Am I to understand that you were about to administer more sedative? Having learned of your previous mistake?"
"Wh – who are you?" was all the doctor could think of to say. He wished he hadn't.
"I am Doctor Donald Mallard, Special Agent DiNozzo's personal physician." The listeners heard every capital letter, including the ones that weren't actually there. "And this is Commander Bradley Pitt, Chief Consultant Physician in Communicable Diseases at the National Naval Medical Centre, Bethesda. We will take over Agent DiNozzo's treatment. NCIS will of course reimburse this hospital for the use of its facilities – you, sir, may expect to hear from our lawyers."
The doctor fled down the corridor.
Tony chuckled, and wondered when he'd last seriously felt like doing that. "Ducky, you're something else." Simon, who'd never seen the ME in action, nodded his totally entranced agreement – so did the nurse. "Now, please tell me I can get out of here?"
"The very first possible moment, dear boy. Jethro, perhaps you'd like to take Mr. Townley to get those nasty abrasions to his hands and face treated, while we just check Anthony over... are these the x-rays? Now..."
As Gibbs and Simon moved away, Nurse Kirton said tentatively, "I can do that... if you wish."
Simon looked at her, biting back a rude remark. He'd seen the relieved look too, and now saw beyond the intimidated mouse and the toothy, fading glamour, to someone who meant well. You didn't become a nurse unless you cared, he thought. And he still held that opinion about doctors... they'd just met the exception that proves the rule.
"OK, thanks," he said finally. They found another cubicle, well away from Tony's, and as the nurse worked carefully, Simon asked Gibbs, "How did you know Dr. Mallard was there? And how did Tony know you were?"
"Same way I knew Tony was awake... Go figure... it's what we do. And you've already worked a few things out today... I'll give you one. Dr. Pitt drives an AC Cobra... no mistaking the sound. I heard it."
Simon thought. "The hand under the cast. And..." this took him longer, but then he smiled. "I spoke, you didn't... but if I was talking to somebody it had to be you. He has a helluva lot of faith in you."
"Yeah... and before you ask, I've already started workin' on things." He was glad to be spared the need to say more by Nurse Kirton asking if Simon had any more injuries, and they sat in silence while she dressed a scrape on the back of his shoulder. Gibbs mused that if it was difficult to talk to Tony, it was harder yet to talk about him...
In the end the nurse was finished, and Simon thanked her. As he stood up to go, she said unhappily, "The first time, I thought Dr. Froome was doing the right thing. The second time I knew he wasn't. I'm glad you were there... I'll never forget today." She hurried away, with tears starting, before either man could say anything.
They made their way back to the waiting room, and Simon stopped, thunderstruck, in the doorway. The place was overflowing. Gibbs smirked, not a bit surprised.
In the moment before his son launched himself at him, Simon saw the rest of Gibbs' team, a tall, good looking girl with a rather different, but definitely stylish mode of dress, Amos and Sally Frame, Ty Frodsham and Scot Milner, Mary, and a balding man whose air of hard-nosed capability reminded him of Gibbs, and marked him out as FBI. There was Mary, of course,who hung back and let Adam greet his Dad first.
All eyes turned to Gibbs; he felt like the guy who gives out the result of the Presidential Election, and answered the unspoken question. "He's fine, like he'd say. Ducky and Dr. Pitt are checking him over, then we're out of here." Abby began to say something else, but he soothed her. "His lungs are fine, Abs."
"Indeed they are," Ducky said from behind them. "He has multiple abrasions and bruising; from the shape of some of them I'd venture to say that the famous piece of timber travelled down the dam with him, and used him to cushion itself from injury... He also has a simple fracture of the right fore-arm, and he's very tired. But apart from that, he's doing very well. He wants to leave now, but there is a problem." There was a murmur of alarm, but Ducky loved an audience. "He has no clothes."
That wasn't a problem, Sally had it covered. Gibbs squeezed her shoulder. "You take them to him, Ms. Frame... see for yourself."
"Thanks..." she gave him an anxious, searching look.
"I've started. I'm workin' on it."
Ty left, after giving Simon the keys to his Denali. "We brought it down from New Dam – thought you might forget where you'd put it."
Scott Milner left, satisfied that the terrifying day had finally ended well enough, and thankful for his wife's good sense. If he'd gone up to the dam that night, maybe he'd be on the dark side right now. He'd take her for a vacation... pay for his extra water and be grateful...
Fornell, who'd been trying to look as if he'd only come to take Mary and Adam's statements, said "Got work to do, tell DiNutso he did well, I already told those two," nodding at Tim and Ziva, and left too.
Ducky insisted on taking Simon to check him over, "Since it doesn't sound as if it was done properly the first time," and Mary and Adam insisted on going too. While they were gone, Brad drew Gibbs to one side.
"Thanks for comin', Dr. Pitt... long journey to say a man's fine."
"We needed to know we could say it, Gibbs. So I needed to be here. Ducky's right, though, he's come through this surprisingly well physically. But he needs one thing more than anything else right now, and that's peace and quiet. You know better than I do where Tony's head is right now. Whatever he says to the contrary about getting back to DC and how he can still do desk work, no. If you can fix it, and I don't mean I want him to stay here, he shouldn't even make the journey back to DC until he's had a good twelve hours sleep."
"I gotcha, Doc. Got it covered." And he had.
Sally came back, with Simon and Tony trooping behind. Mary was holding Simon up, because Adam had suggested that his Dad needed it, and he was manfully supporting Tony, who was trying to look as if he didn't need to prop himself up on a nine-year-old. Sally nodded to Amos, who shot her a 'received and understood' glance back. "We owe you all," he told them, and the Frames hurried away.
The three NCIS crew, who'd been restrained and patient, leapt up, but then restrained themselves. The group hug was gentle.
"I've not heard the whole story yet... but you did good, I know that much."
"So did you, Tony," Abby said, quietly for her. "Hey... when everyone's up to it, we'll have to have a dam-rescue party, where we all get together and tell the story, fill in each other's gaps... but not yet..."
"Soon, Abs," Tony murmured, but he knew she was right. Not yet.
Gibbs came over. "You three, go on back to DC, it's been a long day, get some rest. Even Fornell says you two did good. I'll bring Tony back in his car tomorrow. Doc says he's got to sleep now." He put it quietly, as an instruction, but it brooked no argument, and they left soon afterwards.
"You can both come back to our place to sleep," Adam said, but Gibbs shook his head.
"Thanks, Adam," he said, "Appreciate it, but I got a place for him." He took off his NCIS hat and put it on the boy's head. "I'll look after him. You did good, young hero."
"You got a place for me?" Tony asked as they walked out to his Mustang. He switched directions in mid stride as he realised he wasn't going to be driving, and nearly fell over with the effort. Gibbs opened the door and steadied him with a careful hand under his cast elbow as he got into the car, and waited for some sort of reaction, but there wasn't even a surprised glance.
Tony was wondering when Gibbs had had the time to recline the passenger seat, and although he felt the grasp of his elbow, he couldn't find enough spare brain to process it. He lay in the soft leather seat, turning over that light touch, and 'you got it, son' in his mind, and 'deep down underneath he cares... but he ain't going to change the top layers... how he does things... for anyone'...
Maybe he was... changing the top layers... if it wasn't wishful thinking. But if it was, if Gibbs couldn't help, he didn't know where he was going from here. Today he'd been instrumental in saving thousands of lives... shouldn't it give some value to his? Hadn't he been a decent man before he betrayed Jeanne? Didn't his life have value then? Before he made it worthless... Something had ignited that spark at the bottom of the river... could he even tell Gibbs about that? Boss, I thought about dying... You want him to help you, you can't conceal things from him. 'You got it, son.'
The Mustang rolled to a stop, and Tony knew where they were without opening his eyes. Grass... leather... hay... horse... He looked at Gibbs. "You got a place for me."
"Come on," the Boss said quietly. He walked round the car, and reached a hand down to pull Tony up out of that enfolding bucket of a seat.
"Do the Frames know we're coming?"
"Sally's a smart woman. Didn't have to ask."
A solitary low lamp burned by the tack-room; Doris's top door was open, and she was already looking out, ears pricked. As she huffed her usual welcome, Tony looped an arm over her neck, and stood for a long time with his face buried in her mane. Gibbs waited, with the infinite patience he was famed for not displaying, until he stepped away again. Tony's face was wet with tears.
'DiNozzos don't cry.' Well, Gibbs thought, this one did, at last, and it was a start. He touched his SFA's elbow again to remind him they were going somewhere, and they made their way round to the back door. "Go on," he urged, and virtually pushed the younger man up the stairs ahead of him.
Sally and Amos had been busy. A coffee machine and fixings had been set up in the corner, with a bowl of fruit and a whole box of cereal bars. An extra mattress and blankets had been laid out alongside Tony's cot, and in the middle of the bed sat his Clint hat. How that had been found and returned, Tony had no idea, but he slumped down on his bed, sitting with his back against the wall, turning it in his hands, gripping awkwardly with the tips of his right hand fingers emerging from the cast. Gibbs could still see the glint of tears in the dim light, but Tony fisted them away as soon as he saw the Boss looking at them.
Gibbs sat opposite him on the other mattress. "Tony..."
"Not your fault, Boss. My fault."
"Gonna put it right, whether it is or not."
Tony looked at him for a long time. "I can't... the last year... no... eighteen months..." he banged his head back against the wall, screwed his eyes shut and forced it out through his teeth; "Never again. Please God, never again... next time it'll kill me."
TBC