Note: My only medical knowledge comes from raising three daredevils, and Google. Don't trust any of it as fact.

Chapter Seventeen

Better Be Good to Me

Keshawn and Gibbs arrived at the Thomas Jefferson Memorial Hospital not long after leaving the shelter. Keshawn drove slightly further than necessary because he insisted it was a better hospital, and Gibbs curbed his impatience because he didn't mind putting some space between Tony and his captors. Despite the distance and the speed at which they traveled; it was a very smooth ride. Gibbs could tell their young driver cared about their patient. By the time they reached their destination, Tony was wheezing, and the sound put Gibbs on edge, visions of blue lights dancing on his brain.

When they reached the hospital's emergency entrance, Gibbs told Keshawn to wait while he went inside to get some help. He marched right up to the front desk, flashed his credentials, and demanded Tony be moved to the head of the line. A team of medical personnel brought a stretcher out to the van and whisked a very pale DiNozzo inside.

Before Keshawn drove away, Gibbs handed him all the cash in his wallet. He told the young man to get pizza for everyone back in the improvised shelter to express his thanks for their aid. He was sure its what Tony would've wanted.

"Thanks, man. I'll do that. Listen, when Tony gets better, tell him to look me up. I'm still working for Sal, only now I'm a fully-licensed electrician. I owe him," Keshawn said, shaking Gibbs' hand.

"I think you're square – but I'll let him know," Gibbs said, slapping his hand twice on the hood before Keshawn drove away.

Gibbs returned to the waiting room and began to pace. Exhaustion was beckoning him too strongly to risk sitting down. He knew he should call Fornell but would bet that the doctors would be out with a diagnosis as soon as he attempted the call. Gibbs was Tony's medical proxy, had been ever since the younger man contracted the plague. Although Tony was conscious, so he could agree to treatment when he was first admitted, it concerned Gibbs enough to insist that all his team have a local contact listed on their emergency forms.

Kate and McGee already filled theirs out correctly when they'd first been hired, but DiNozzo somehow slipped his through without a medical contact.

Gibbs put his own name on Tony's form before he even handed it to him for signature. Tony didn't say anything aloud, but he gave Gibbs a small nod, and it was never mentioned again. That's how he and Tony used to work, but recently, their connection developed static. Gibbs finally realized just where the interference was coming.

"Anyone here with Cody Redman?" a plump nurse with large arms and an even larger personality called out.

It took a minute for Gibbs to register the name. He supposed being awake for over twenty-four hours could do that to a person. When the nurse repeated the name, he stood.

"That's me," he said, following her down the corridor.

Once they were out of earshot of the waiting room, he said, "His name is Anthony DiNozzo. I told your front desk."

The nurse paused outside a room with a closed curtain acting as a door. "ID says Cody Redman," she said suspiciously, her eyes squinting as she stared at Gibbs.

He didn't have time for this. He pulled out his badge and held it right in front of her face.

"Federal agents, undercover. He going to be all right?" he asked, growling.

The nurse put her hands on her wide hips, dark eyes narrowing. "Don't you get huffy with me. You don't want to be on my bad side, Agent-man. You his partner?" she asked.

Gibbs pressed his lips together. Normally, he wouldn't care whose bad side he put himself on, but he needed to know.

"Yes, and his medical proxy," Gibbs said, jaw clenched.

The nurse appeared to approve of his slight change in attitude. "Very well, come on in," she said, pulling the curtain aside and letting him into the cramped examination room.

"Dr. Kovalenko, this is LeRoy Jethro Gibbs, and he says your patient is called Anthony, not Cody. They're federal agents," she said to a fair-haired man in a lab coat adjusting the machines hooked up to Tony.

There was also another woman in the room. She, too, wore a lab coat while she adjusted a breathing mask over Tony's face.

"Tony. He prefers to be called Tony," Gibbs said, not entirely sure why he wanted that to be clear. Tony only seemed to use his full name when he felt he'd done something wrong.

"He's taken quite a beating and has several broken bones, along with some internal bleeding. He's going to need surgery to repair the damage. Do you know the name of his primary care, so I can get a medical background?" Dr. Kovalenko asked.

Gibbs nodded. "Dr. Donald Mallard at NCIS," he said, reeling off Ducky's number. "He's a medical examiner, but he patches up all NCIS agents and keeps their histories."

Dr. Kovalenko's pale eyebrows rose, but he nodded. Gibbs wasn't sure if he was old enough to be a doctor.

"Roberta, can you get ahold of this doctor for me?" Dr. Kovalenko asked.

The nurse bobbed her head and left the room, eyeing Gibbs sidewise as she did.

The other woman, who looked as if she might be an intern and even younger than Dr. Kovalenko, turned and asked. "Do you know if there's any specific medical history that we should be aware? He has broken bones in his left hand and his ribs on both sides. An X-ray showed a bone shard from one of his ribs caused a Pneumothorax – a collapsed lung. There's also some trauma to his kidneys that we'll monitor, and a possible concussion. We want to get him up to surgery to stop the bleeding right away. They're prepping a room for him now," she said.

The hackles on the back of Gibbs' neck stood on end, wishing they could just ask him these questions while they were moving him to the operating room. DiNozzo was entirely too pale and still for his liking. It was unnatural, and brought back more unpleasant memories of blue lights in an isolation chamber.

"Had the plague last May," he said, voice strained.

Both doctors stopped what they were doing and looked at Gibbs carefully, as if they might need to check him for a head injury.

"Pneumonic plague. Treated at Bethesda Naval Hospital by Dr. Pitt," Gibbs said, not wanting to get into the whole Hollywood confusion with Brad's name.

Leave it to DiNozzo to end up with a doctor who shared a name with a famous actor. Gibbs just wanted them to hurry.

"You're serious?" the woman asked, brow knitted.

"Nearly killed him. Can you move now?" he asked, his tentative grip on his temper slipping.

The woman's face was stern. "I understand your concern, but if we're going into his chest, that's very relevant. I'm Dr. Okinyi, a Pulmonologist here. I'm going to confer with Dr. Pitt before I open him up," she said.

"What if you can't?" he asked sharply.

How young did they go through medical school these days?

"Bethesda will have his records, even if Dr. Pitt isn't on duty. I assure you it won't take long," she patted his arm as if consoling an upset relative before she left.

The sound of Tony's wheezing despite the mask covering his face was driving Gibbs insane. He needed to do something. The intercom buzzed, and Roberta's distinct voice filled the room.

"I have Dr. Mallard for you," she said.

Dr. Kovalenko picked up the phone and began speaking with Ducky. Gibbs walked over and took a good look at DiNozzo now that they were under the lights. He was sweating, although not as profusely as it'd looked in the firelight. Gibbs knew that meant his fever wasn't dangerously high. His head was lolling to the side, his face battered and bruised. One eye looked as if it was probably swollen shut, the coloring spectacular. They'd removed his shirt and boots, leaving his lower body covered with a sheet.

Despite the impressive bruising, Gibbs could see his chest was covered in a light peach fuzz, although the Henna tattoo was still intact. Gibbs remembered the way Tony strut when it had first been applied. He wondered if Abby would hold off pestering him to get a real one while he recovered. He mentally added her name to the list of people who needed to be informed.

It seemed to take forever before Tony was whisked up to surgery, and Gibbs was led to the surgical waiting area. When he glanced at the clock, it really hadn't been all that long. He immediately went for the coffee machine available in the back and poured a cup. This waiting room was less crowded than the ER's had been, and he was finally able to sink into in a chair, his body sagging in relief. He took a sip of the sludge they called coffee, winced, and discarded the cup on an end table.

The doctors said the surgery would most likely take several hours, and he should go home, take a shower, and return in the morning. Although that sounded like exactly what he needed, he had no intention of leaving the hospital – or leaving DiNozzo unprotected.

He allowed his eyes to close for just a few moments, letting the tension seep out through his pores. DiNozzo was safe, and with people who could help him. Now he had to deal with the rest of his team. When he felt slightly more prepared for the deluge, he removed his phone and resignedly hit speed dial seven.

"Where the hell have you been?" Fornell asked so angrily that Gibbs pulled the phone away from his ear.

"Didn't know you cared," he replied glibly.

"It's not funny. I know playing cowboy is your standard MO, but this is a joint investigation, damn it. I thought you had a rule about always being reachable," Fornell said.

"D'you want a sitrep or just to be pissy?" he asked.

"Personally, I'd rather just be pissy, but your team seems concerned. Something you should've thought about when you decided to go lone wolf."

"I didn't go lone wolf. If you'd shut up a minute, I'm gonna tell ya," Gibbs said, his limited amount of patience dwindling.

"Do it then," Fornell said tightly.

"I'm at the hospital with DiNozzo. He's in surgery," Gibbs said, the full impact of the words creating a lead ball in his belly.

"Is he going to be all right?" Fornell asked, his anger turning to concern.

"He better be," Gibbs said, knowing Fornell would be able to hear the concern by what he didn't say.

"How'd you find him?" Fornell asked.

"He found me. Managed to get to a homeless shelter and sent one of the locals to track me down. He's in surgery," Gibbs said.

"Why didn't you alert us? We're still searching here," Fornell said, the anger creeping back into his voice.

"DiNozzo instructed them to get me alone," Gibbs said.

"Convenient. D'you want me to send McGee and David over?" Fornell asked. "McGee is wound tighter than the screws on a new playground."

"No. Tell them to hit the rack first," Gibbs said.

"Yeah, well, things have been rather eventful over here, too," Fornell said. "Thanks for asking."

Gibbs frowned. "Eventful how?"

"We found the building where your boy was being held. Also found two more bodies there, but no perps. One of the deceased is your missing NSWC roommate," Fornell said.

"You found him?" Gibbs asked, surprised.

"Yes. Believe it or not, we continued the search after you disappeared. I've told you before that you're not the center of the universe, Jethro. Everyone else's lives continue when you're not around."

Fornell had accused him of this self-absorbed behavior in the past because he knew it got under Gibbs' skin.

"Quit whining – you sound like an angry wife," Gibbs said.

"You would know all about angry wives. You're good at creating those," Fornell said.

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Was the other vic Mike Sullivan?"

"No. No sign of him. The other one was a woman, both recently deceased. The bodies have been sent back to our medical examiner, but I haven't got an ID yet. I have the building here cordoned off, and a team will be out to do a thorough search in the morning. I'm going to send this crew and Tina's home," Fornell said coolly.

Gibbs hung up, leaning his head against the wall. He knew he had to talk to McGee next, then get all the doctorspeak translated by Ducky. He already felt as if he'd used more words today than he had the entire previous month. He hated phone calls where grunts, facial expressions, and head slaps didn't suffice.

Another thing DiNozzo was going to hear about.

Deciding to just get on with it, he hit speed dial six. It was picked up on the first ring.

"Boss?" Tim asked, his anxiety coming across the line.

"DiNozzo's safe at the hospital. It's late, we'll talk tomorrow," he said, hoping the young agent would simply comply but aware it was a futile wish.

"How did you find him?" McGee yelped.

Gibbs sighed wearily. He supposed he owed McGee more than that. He'd been up all night and through the day searching. He still wasn't ready to deal with either of his two junior agents, however.

"I didn't. He sent someone to find me. She did," he replied.

"She? So, he's all right? He's been with Stephanie this whole time? Why didn't he contact us sooner?" McGee asked with righteous indignation.

.

"Did you miss the part where I said we're at the hospital?" he asked, his voice rising on each syllable so other visitors turned to scowl.

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Gibbs could picture the various emotions filtering across his agent's face.

"Sorry. Maybe I did, but it's been a long night," he said resentfully. "How is he? What happened?. Why did it take so long?"

"That's twice now you've jumped to conclusions. Facts, not assumptions. Oughtta know that already," Gibbs said.

"Right," McGee replied quietly, although to Gibbs it sounded sullen.

"Let Ziva know he's been found. I'll talk to you both tomorrow," he said, ending the call.

He needed to add getting McGee past those defensive, knee-jerk reactions to the growing list of things he had to repair on his team. He was aware the junior agent felt guilty and afraid since DiNozzo went missing, aside from the lack of sleep. Didn't Gibbs just snap at Fornell out of frustration and exhaustion? Still, consistently jumping to negative conclusions where his SFA was concerned needed to change. They all needed to change.

He wasn't ready to talk to Ziva – she could stew. When she first joined the team, it was amusing to see how she could derail DiNozzo, knock him off his game. Kate was never quite able to do that. She'd get exasperated or offended and never realize half the crap he said was meant to wind her up.

Ziva could match wits, but her jabs had grown steadily harsher, belittling, personal. She was supposed to keep sight of DiNozzo, too, and it's not like she'd never barged into a men's room before. No matter what she said, she had to know she was too close to that amp. He wanted to talk to DiNozzo before he spoke with either of them, though. He was liable to shoot them.

Gibbs eyelids were heavy. All the adrenaline fueling him since they'd first realized DiNozzo was missing was rapidly evaporating. He needed to get a few more answers before he could allow a respite. He hit speed dial four.

"Jethro, how is Anthony?" Ducky asked, picking up immediately and sounding as bright and chipper as if it was morning rather than late at night.

"And here I thought I'd wake you," he said sardonically.

"I wasn't asleep. I knew you'd call after I spoke with Dr. Kovalenko, delightful chap. His wife has relatives in Scotland, too, although hers descend from Edinburgh rather than the Highlands. Edinburgh is…"

"Duck!" Gibbs interrupted with no patience for Highland relatives or any other sort. "Short on time here. What's the prognosis on DiNozzo?"

"Oh, right," Ducky said, collecting himself. "He has some broken bones in his left hand, but they looked like clean breaks. The ribs are more concerning. Several are fractured on both sides, and two completely broken on the right, that's what caused the Pneumothorax. He has an elevated temperature, but with the damage to his lung, particularly with his medical history, they felt it was better to repair it straightaway.

"His kidney will heal without further intervention, and the bleeding has stopped. They must've hit him with something other than a fist or a boot," Ducky said, concern bleeding through his words.

"Probably a lead pipe," Gibbs said, growling.

"Barbaric. He has tissue and muscle damage to the right ankle, but it should recover nicely with anti-inflammatories. He also clearly took some blows to the head, but they can't be sure if there's a concussion until he fully awakens. Thankfully, they did not detect any swelling of the brain," Ducky said.

"So… nothing permanent?" Gibbs asked, pressing.

"He'll need to be on an oxygen regiment, of course. They used a needle to allow air to escape from his lung, but with rest and oxygen therapy, he will recover," Ducky said.

"Hand going to have any limitations?" Gibbs asked, his body tense.

He didn't think DiNozzo would take it well if the injury interfered with his ability to use a weapon. Gibbs wouldn't want to have to give him that news.

"Well, I can't fully answer that until we see his range of motion, but knowing the way Anthony pushes through recovery of the most serious injuries, I think he'll see this as a minor bump in the road," Ducky said.

"How he sees it any different than how it is?" Gibbs asked, wishing doctors could just give a straight answer.

"Let's just leave it that we shouldn't put the cart before the horse," Ducky said firmly.

Gibbs didn't like it, but he supposed DiNozzo was going to like it even less.

"What happened? How did he get away from his captors?" Ducky asked.

"Wish I knew, Duck. Found him holed up with a bunch of vagrants, unconscious," Gibbs said.

"I'm sure there's a story to tell, and Anthony will enjoy regaling us with all the drama and intrigue when he's feeling better," Ducky said.

"Anything else?" Gibbs asked.

"There were trace amounts of Barbiturates in his system, and you know the effect most pharmaceuticals have on him. I would guess they were used to subdue him, but it's up to you to figure that one out," Ducky said.

Gibbs snorted. "Maybe he didn't escape at all. Maybe they just couldn't take any more of him when he's on those things."

Ducky chuckled. "Still, it's such a relief he's been found. How are Ziva and Timothy holding up?"

"Just spoke to McGee and told them to hit the rack," Gibbs said.

"Don't you think rest would come easier if they could see Anthony for themselves?" Ducky asked.

"No. I want to speak with DiNozzo before he gets any outside interference," Gibbs said firmly.

"Outside interference? Precisely what does that mean?" Ducky asked.

"Not sure it means anything," Gibbs said.

"Hmm," Ducky replied, clearly suspecting there was more being left unsaid. "Well, I'd suggest you phone Ziva, anyway. Poor girl has been very distraught at being left on her own. She's phoned several times asking if I'd heard from you. I'm sure she'll feel better with your reassurance."

"She was with the Fibbies," Gibbs said.

"Yes, still, no one from our tight little group. She said you took McGee and not her," Ducky said, persisting.

"True."

He knew Ducky was dissatisfied with his brief answer, but he wasn't willing to elaborate. Like him, Ducky could be incredibly biased when it came to women, and he'd also developed a large soft spot for Ziva.

"Listen, can you call Abby and fill her in," Gibbs asked, eliminating one of his calls.

"Of course. Am I allowed to share everything you've said?" Ducky asked testily.

"Yeah, although McGee probably already did," Gibbs said.

"Very well. Goodnight, Jethro," Ducky said.

Gibbs disconnected the call, lightly banging his head against the wall and vaguely wondering how Ducky could've gotten so much information out of Dr. Kovalenko in a such a short amount of time. He wasn't even sure where a couple of his ex-wives' families originated from, never mind a random doctor he just met on the phone. Still, he'd reassure Abby and fill her in after the surgery, as well. He was sure Ducky would know the diagnosis before he did.

People liked him better.

His gut was turning again. Ziva had been checking up on them through Ducky rather than Kehoe. He wasn't fooled that it was out of any concern for DiNozzo. Finding these perps took priority, but eventually, Ziva would have to be put in line.

He blinked the weariness from his eyes. One more call before he could sleep, and it was the one he least wanted to make. Sighing, he hit speed dial two.

"Jethro?" Jenny answered immediately. "Has Agent DiNozzo been found? What about the suspects? Did you locate any of them?"

Gibbs paused a moment, stiffening. Per protocol, he'd alerted her when DiNozzo first went missing, but they hadn't spoken since. He'd never mentioned that none of their warrants for the suspects had panned out, either.

"DiNozzo's in the hospital, but he hasn't regained consciousness. Still no sign of the perpetrators," he said, giving her the bare minimum.

"Do you have any leads on where they might be?" she asked, unable to conceal the irritation in her voice.

He had a good idea where she was getting her information, although he hoped he was wrong. Still, he needed to figure out exactly what happened before she got the chance to interfere, so he had to give her something to keep her occupied.

"Found Paul Bergmann's body. No ToD, but it's recent. There were two bodies in the building where DiNozzo was held," he said.

Jenny sighed. "I'll have to tell the Admiral."

"Hold off on that for as long as you can," he replied.

"Why?" she asked, startled.

"Bergmann's dead, but they never got the information from Eric Montague. He's still a target," Gibbs said.

"And he'll want to return to NSWC the moment he learns of Bergmann's death," Jenny finished for him.

"The Admiral won't want him in danger. You can come up with something," he said, counting on her desire to keep the Admiral happy.

She wouldn't do anything to jeopardize that.

"All right. Let me know what you learn as soon as you talk to DiNozzo. Get some rest, Jethro," she said.

"Will do," he replied, suspecting she was up to something. He wanted to talk with DiNozzo before he got versions of the story from anyone else.

/* /* /* /*

Tony was running. Running full out. He knew he couldn't stop. It was imperative he inot/i stop, but he was getting winded. Every breath felt as if knives were slicing into him. Colors were too bright, shapes all wrong, and everything sounded as if he were listening underwater. Panting, he had to stop, just for a minute to catch his breath. He leaned against a blue tree, watching a football as it zoomed around the trunk like a bird.

A bird of prey.

He wanted to grab it. He could play football. He so wanted to play. It was simpler, easier. As he reached up, the football transformed. Menacing, razor sharp-teeth snapped at his hand. He yanked it away, frightened, confused.

He had to move. Danny Price, his partner in Baltimore beckoned, but Tony knew not to go that way. Backstabbing pretender. The blue cloud he was trying to escape was moving ever closer. He could feel the icy tendrils licking against his skin. It was so cold. The smoke swirled, blue eyes flashed angrily, demanding, unreasonable.

There was nowhere left to go, and it was so hard to breathe. He could see the Navy Yard ahead, but angry ninjas blocked the entrance, spitting, scowling, brandishing their knives. They didn't want him there.

Tony turned again, blue tendrils of smoke moving ever closer. He had to find it. There was something there, in the Navy Yard, but he couldn't remember. Angry voices called, shadows sprung from the ground, hovering over the bullpen. He wanted to go in, but the shadows were snapping, snarling, warning him to stay away. The elevator pinged. As the doors opened, knives, deadly, sharp blades that could pierce through his armor sliced through the air, hissing like snakes. The blue cloud didn't faze them.

It didn't want them.

"Anthony! You must sit still and listen to the music. Stop fidgeting, shut your eyes, and let it in," his mother said.

She held a blue ruler in her dainty hand. She hit his knuckles when he missed the correct piano keys.

It burned.

Betrayed, he looked at his mother's beautiful face. She held a drink, blue liquid swirled, gradually turned black, and began to smoke. Tony didn't want to her drink it, but his hand moved through her as if she was made of mist.

Blue mist.

He watched, horrified, and fascinated as her head faded until it was gone, leaving him reaching out to grasp vapor.

The piano morphed into Wendy. She was wearing her bridal dress, slashed down the front and dropping blue petals on the ground. She laughed, high-pitched and cruel.

"You don't even see it, do you?" she asked, teeth becoming long and fierce like a viper.

Tony moved again. He had to run. He had to find it. There were barriers everywhere, and he couldn't breathe.

The scene shifted, blue smoke swirled, and he found himself at his family's house in the Hamptons. His father was there with yet another potential stepmother. She'd bought a ridiculous new hat with long, blue feathers.

It looked stupid.

He told her so.

"Junior!" his father bellowed, enraged, his face turning red with fury. He grabbed a bottle of Scotch, snarling…

And he morphed into Probie sitting at his computer, forehead scrunched, typing frantically as he sometimes did when he was trying to break a code.

"Not now, Tony. I have to finish this. Will you grow up and stop fooling around."

He wasn't fooling. He had to get it. Had to tell Tim, warn him, but the words wouldn't come. It was too hard to breathe.

"You know my training," Ziva hissed.

The blue coils reached him, spiraling around him, trapping him, holding him. He was running out of time.

He gasped and yelled. There was nowhere to turn. There was never anywhere to turn. He jerked his head from side-to-side, panicking.

Suddenly, he was in Gibbs' basement. Gibbs' sniper rifle hung from the boat. A pointy elbow jabbed into his side, stilling him. The familiarity was both right and so very wrong. Kate stood there in her blue suit, slim pencil skirt. Cobalt blue. Tears streaked her face, making her mascara run, and a small, perfect hole appeared in the center of her forehead, marring the paleness of her skin.

She looked at him accusingly, disappointment shining in her eyes. "DiNozzo! She killed me – and you let her."

No! That wasn't true. He'd tried to save her. He'd saved her from the bomb in the blue car, but he couldn't save her from the bullet, speeding toward her, unexpected, unaware. He couldn't move fast enough this time, either. The blue bonds held him in place. He couldn't move and had to watch it happen again, feeling the hot spray of blood all over his face.

Steadying hands – strong, warm, safe.

"Take it easy, DiNozzo. You can do this. Think," a shadowy voice whispered in the wind.

"Rule Twenty-Eight," said the wind.

Kate appeared again with reproachful eyes, the back of her skull missing.

"Rule twenty-eight. What are you going to do about it?" she asked, her eyes full of life.

Tony awoke with a start, unable to breathe, tears filling his eyes and in a world of pain.

Note: Rule 28: If you need help, ask.