Chapter Twenty
February 5, 2011 – 12:02am
Jimmy awoke to a sensation of weight on his chest and stomach, screaming in his ears, and a sharp pain on one side of his face. Then something struck the other side of his face, causing a similar pain and making his head rock to the side. The screaming stopped.
He opened his eyes and saw Tony hovering above him, a frightened look on his face. Jimmy realized that Tony was straddling him, causing that feeling of weight on his lower torso. Maybe that was why Jimmy felt so short of breath; he was gasping for air, but couldn't quite get enough.
"Jimmy! God, Jimmy, are you okay?" Tony's voice seemed to echo in Jimmy's ears.
"Tony?" Jimmy's voice was extremely hoarse. He swallowed painfully and opened his mouth to try again –
Memories came flooding back – the chair, Tony's hands in his, running through the building, and then – he screamed, giving voice to the hurt and the fear and the frustration of having failed yet again, after getting so close…
"Jimmy!" Tony's hands were on his shoulders, holding him tight, shaking him. "Jimmy, wake up! Please!"
The desperation in Tony's voice finally broke through, stabbing like a dagger into Jimmy's heart and soul. He opened his eyes again, panting for breath, his throat on fire. That was me screaming before, too – the thought popped into his head out of nowhere. No wonder Tony looked so scared.
"Jimmy? Are you okay?" Tony's hand touched the side of his face, gently this time. Jimmy knew that Tony would never hurt him; the slap had always been an act of desperation, a last resort when everything else failed to wake Jimmy from his nightmares. Tony stroked his cheek, brushed his hair back from his forehead. "Jimmy, say something, please?"
He looked so anxious – terrified, really. Jimmy raised a shaking hand to take Tony's, and pressed his lips against his lover's fingers. "I love you," he whispered.
Tony closed his eyes. "Jimmy, oh, God." He pulled Jimmy's hand to his own lips and returned the kiss. "Are you okay? You had me so worried…"
"Tony, I'm sorry." Jimmy's eyes were leaking tears down the sides of his face. He wasn't just apologizing for waking Tony up; he had failed his lover last night, though the other man thankfully had no knowledge of it.
"Hey, it's okay. You have nothing to apologize for." Tony still held Jimmy's hand, which was trembling in his grasp. He looked down at the man still shaking from the aftereffects of what had to be a horrific dream, and said the first thing that came to mind. "But I thought you were done having nightmares…"
His words tore a sob from Jimmy's tortured throat, and then the young man turned his face away from him and began to cry.
Tony rolled off of Jimmy and pulled him into his arms, rocking the younger man gently. "Shh, shh, it's okay, it's okay," he murmured, burying one hand in Jimmy's hair as he held the sobbing man close. "I'm sorry, Jimmy, I'm so, so sorry…"
His words just made Jimmy cry harder. I want so bad for this to just be a dream, he thought, clinging to the man he loved, the man he'd lost four times now in as many days. I'm not sure I can take much more of this…
As the sobbing began to still, Jimmy became more aware of how he was feeling physically. His head was pounding, his throat burned, and his stomach was definitely not happy with him. A familiar sensation made him gasp, but Tony, mistaking it for another sob, squeezed him closer.
"Tony…"
Tony brushed his fingers along the back of Jimmy's neck, a touch that was usually soothing – or arousing, in the right circumstances – but right now it just added to Jimmy's growing discomfort. "Shh, it's okay," he whispered.
"Tony, I – I'm going to be sick –"
Jimmy was later impressed by – and grateful for – the speed with which Tony sat them up, threw Jimmy's arm around his shoulder and his own arm around Jimmy's waist, and hauled him into the bathroom. At the time, all he knew was that one moment, he was lying in bed, and the next, he was kneeling in front of the toilet and throwing up for what felt like an eternity.
I haven't even eaten anything for – what – four days? he thought, between bouts of retching. This is so not fair…
And then he realized. He should really be grateful that, upon waking, he still had Friday night's dinner to throw up. Because if his body didn't reset itself to its original state at midnight, he wouldn't be here right now. He'd be scattered into tiny pieces, and so would Tony, just like what he'd seen the second night… That thought did nothing to help the state of his stomach.
Positive thoughts, Palmer. He closed his eyes, but when he did, all he could see was… Yeah, positive thoughts. I'm positive I'm going to throw up again...
Jimmy was dimly aware of Tony's comforting presence, of the cool washcloth that Tony held to the back of his neck. Funny, he'd always imagined that Tony would be the type to bail out if stomach contents started making an appearance, but here he was, with a bedside – toiletside? – manner that would make Florence Nightingale proud.
When he was pretty sure there was nothing left to come up, Jimmy collapsed back against the bathtub, raising a shaking hand to his forehead. The light… When did the light get so bright in here?
He heard water running in the sink again, and then Tony was kneeling next to him, wiping his face with the cold cloth. Jimmy sighed in sheer relief at how good it felt.
Tony handed him the cloth. "Here," he said. "I'll be right back."
Indeed, he was back just moments later, holding a glass of water to Jimmy's lips. "Rinse your mouth out," he instructed. "Then we'll see about getting you back into bed –"
In the bedroom, Tony's cell phone started to ring.
Jimmy looked at Tony, but the agent just shook his head and held up the glass again. "It can wait," he said firmly.
By the time Tony got Jimmy to his feet, the phone had quit ringing. Tony had to half-carry Jimmy into the bedroom; the younger man was dizzy and weak, and simply could not stand on his own. He collapsed onto the bed, all but holding on to it to stop the room from spinning.
Tony knelt on the floor at the edge of the bed, one hand stroking Jimmy's hair. "Are you going to be alright?"
Jimmy didn't think he could lie his way out of this one, but he was spared the need to do so when the phone started ringing again. "You need to get that," he mumbled. "Rule 3."
"It can wait," Tony repeated. "Rule 1."
It took Jimmy a moment to figure out which Rule 1 Tony meant. "But I'm not your partner," he objected.
"You're not?"
He didn't have the energy to be embarrassed. "I mean I'm not your partner at work," he clarified.
"Doesn't matter." Tony leaned forward to kiss Jimmy's forehead. "Besides, even Gibbs is unreachable sometimes."
Jimmy was touched that Tony would risk Gibbs' wrath to take care of him. It was so tempting to ask Tony to stay with him; the thought of sending him out to die again tonight made his stomach twist. I can't keep doing this. I don't know how much more I can take…
The phone quit ringing – and then immediately started again.
"Tony, you have to answer it," Jimmy insisted, feeling like he was signing his lover's death warrant. "Go on. It's okay."
Tony laid his hand briefly on Jimmy's forehead, then stood and picked up the phone from the nightstand. He stepped out of the room and pulled the door closed behind him as he answered. "DiNozzo," Jimmy heard him say, and then the door clicked shut.
Wondering how the conversation would differ from the previous nights – Tony had always answered promptly before – Jimmy attempted to get up and move to the door to eavesdrop. He only got as far as lifting his head, though, before dizziness forced him back down.
What is wrong with me? he wondered. I wasn't sick any other night, and it's not like I could have caught a cold that's only now showing symptoms. I've already proved that everything except my memory resets itself when the loop starts over. I wouldn't even be here if that wasn't the case… God, my head hurts…
Jimmy groaned when Tony came back into the room, letting the light in with him. Quickly seeing his lover's distress, Tony closed the door and felt his way to the bed in the darkness, climbing in beside him. He pulled Jimmy closer; the younger man laid his head on Tony's shoulder, taking comfort in his presence.
"Who was it?" Jimmy mumbled for form's sake; he already knew, of course, but he couldn't discuss it with Tony until Tony had actually told him.
"It was Gibbs." Tony kept his voice low out of deference to Jimmy's aching head. He gently stroked one hand up and down Jimmy's back; now that Jimmy was no longer nauseous, he found Tony's touch soothing.
Keeping his eyes closed – the vertigo wasn't as bad that way – Jimmy tried to find a way to make the situation easier for Tony. He knew that Gibbs' senior field agent was torn between two loyalties – to his boss, whom Jimmy suspected Tony saw as a surrogate father figure, and to his lover, who could barely function on his own just now. Tony had no way of knowing of Jimmy's own inner turmoil – the logical side that knew he couldn't predict the team's actions if Tony wasn't with them, versus the sick desperation that Jimmy felt whenever he pictured Tony walking out that door to his certain death…
He tried, not entirely successfully, to put that out of his mind. "You have to go, don't you?" he asked quietly.
Maybe Tony didn't know his thoughts, but he was acutely aware of Jimmy's physical response to the stress he was under. So while he heard Jimmy's too-casual question, he also felt the tension in his shoulders and the trembling of the arm draped across Tony's chest. "Do you want me to stay?"
Jimmy shook his head slightly. "No, you need to go," he insisted. "I'll be okay, go on."
Tony frowned; Jimmy knew that he certainly didn't look okay. "I'm going to get into the shower," he said slowly. "Yell if you need me, okay?" He waited for Jimmy's weak nod before carefully untangling himself from the other man and slipping out the door.
As the water started to run, Jimmy took a deep breath and pushed himself to a sitting position. His hands gripped the sheets under him as the bed seemed to lurch; if he didn't know better, Jimmy would swear that he was on a boat in rough water, and a not particularly steady boat, at that.
He scooted to the edge of the bed closest to the door, then attempted to stand and walk forward. What actually happened was that he got to his feet, swayed, and stumbled wildly in what was, by pure chance, the right direction. He caught himself on the doorknob and leaned his forehead against the wall, waiting for the vertigo to die down. When the floor felt more-or-less steady, he opened the door, blinking hard against the rather dim light of the living room lamp. He paused for a moment to aim himself toward the couch; then he closed his eyes and staggered forward, making it a good two-thirds of the way before his legs gave out.
By the time Tony came out of the bathroom, wrapping a towel around his waist, Jimmy had just managed to crawl the rest of the way to the couch.
"Jesus, Jimmy, what do you think you're doing?" Tony cried in dismay as he rushed forward to help the other man up onto the couch. "Why didn't you just stay in bed?"
Jimmy leaned against Tony's shoulder, panting hard. He couldn't believe how hard it had been to take those few short steps. How in the world was he going to…? "Would it sound really stupid if I said I was trying to help you get ready?" he laughed weakly.
"Yes, it would," Tony said bluntly. He pulled Jimmy's arm over his shoulder in preparation to support his weight. "Let's get you back –"
"No, please," Jimmy protested. He pulled his arm away. "Just leave me here, it'll be easier."
Tony glanced at the couch. It was a little old and worn, but was perfectly comfortable. "Okay, then," he agreed. He reached over and pulled Jimmy up against him. "Look, I don't like leaving you here like this…" he started to say.
"It's okay, Tony. I know you need to go." I knew before you did, he continued in the privacy of his own head.
"It's not okay," Tony protested. "But you're right. I do need to go." He pressed his lips to Jimmy's forehead in a gentle kiss. "How about if I call Ducky?" he suggested. "I really don't want to leave you alone like this…"
Jimmy's first thought was that with Ducky present, he wouldn't be able to get anything done. But his second thought was coldly practical – What did you think you were going to accomplish tonight, anyway? You can't even take two steps on your own!
Giving in to practicality, Jimmy nodded.
A few minutes later, Jimmy was laying on the couch with his eyes closed when he felt Tony's hand touch his shoulder. "Hey, Jimmy?"
"Mm hmm?"
"You wanna help me get some clothes on you? I know Ducky's a doctor, but I really don't think he'll want to examine you that closely…"
"Oh, right." Another thought occurred to Jimmy. "Hey, bring my glucose meter out here, would you?"
"Sure." Tony helped Jimmy to sit up, then assisted in pulling a faded t-shirt over his head. "Er… do you need help with that?"
Jimmy knew that for all Tony's courage under fire, the man did not like needles. Jimmy had always taken care of his glucose testing and insulin injections in private. "No, I'll let Doctor Mallard do it," he reassured him. "He'll want to test me himself anyway, so no sense in doing it twice."
Tony nodded in relieved agreement as he helped Jimmy into a pair of plaid pajama bottoms. Then he disappeared into the bedroom, coming back with not just the requested equipment, but with a pillow and warm blanket from the bed as well. He helped Jimmy settle into a comfortable position on the couch, then disappeared again and came back with Jimmy's glasses and a worn paperback book, which he left on the coffee table. "In case you get bored," he explained with a gentle smile.
It was another twenty minutes before Ducky arrived. Jimmy was surprised that Tony insisted on waiting with him. "Gibbs is going to kill you for being so late," he said. "Go on, I'll be okay til Doctor Mallard gets here."
Tony just shook his head from where he sat on the floor next to the couch, holding Jimmy's hand in his, rubbing the back of his hand with his thumb in a gentle caress.
Giving in, Jimmy closed his eyes. The soothing, repetitive touch and Tony's comforting presence felt like heaven, especially when compared to Jimmy's last few days. He squeezed Tony's hand and felt him return the pressure; and in that moment, the last pieces of the puzzle fell into place and he knew what he had to do. When this was all over and Tony was safe, Jimmy decided, they were going to have a little talk. It was time to stop hiding their relationship. Gibbs was just going to have to get over it. If he couldn't, or wouldn't, then Jimmy would leave NCIS. It wasn't his first choice, but he would do it if he had to – because his first choice was right here, right next to him, and Jimmy would do anything, give up everything, to stay with him.
Because on another night, in a reality that no longer existed but was no less real for Jimmy, Tony had done the same for him.