Tony sat down in one of the seats in the hallway, his back to Gibbs’ room. His breathing was shallow and he cursed himself for being too weak to be able to push himself into going in to see Gibbs. He let out a huge sigh and lowered his head so that it rested between his two thighs.
“Tony, are you okay?” McGee asked, concerned but quietly, trying to evade getting shouted at; a repeat of his earlier outburst would not do anybody any good.
“I’m fine, McGee.” Tony said through gritted teeth.
“Are you sure?”
“I said I’m fine; so drop it, Probie.”
McGee sat down on a seat across the room from the troubled agent, a distraught Abby and the absent-looking Director. He was always the one that people took out their anger on; why couldn’t, for once, people realize that he had feelings, too? He was in as much pain as the others; he was also one of the ones that let the bastard get away, but there was nothing he could do about that now. All he needed to do now was be here for his Boss, although he doubted that would make much of a difference. Gibbs had always been close with Tony and Abby; McGee saw them almost like a small family: brother, sister and the overprotective parent. Where did he fit into all of this? He would never see Abby as just a sister, not after everything that had happened; and Tony never seemed to really open up to him or let him see the real Tony DiNozzo. Every now and then McGee thought he caught a glimpse of what was behind the mask, but every time it was taken away, as the ‘fake’ Tony glossed over it. Maybe he would never truly fit in at NCIS, but he liked to think that he had made an impression. He loved working at NCIS, and he loved the people that came with it, but just how much did they love him back?
Leaning back and resting the back of his head against the cool glass of the window into the hospital room, he could just about make out the murmur of Ziva’s voice. Not loud enough to make out words, but it was definitely her voice.
***
“Remember the first time I saw you in a coma, Jethro?” Ziva asked Gibbs’ sleeping body. “No, of course you wouldn’t; you were in a coma after all. But this time, I want you to remember; I need you to remember what I say to you. Will you do that for me?”
Taking Gibbs’ silence as an agreement, Ziva carried on, “I need you to come back, Jethro. The team needs you to come back; every last one of us, we just don’t work without you. McGee needs you to make him feel important, part of the team; Abby needs you to look after her, care for her like you always do. Ducky needs you to listen to his long stories and to reminisce with him, to make him feel young and needed again, not like the frail old man he fears becoming; Director Shepard needs you to remind her of the woman she once was, and not of the obsession driven machine that she sees herself becoming. I need you tell me that I’m doing okay, that I am a good agent. It may be selfish of me, but I need you here to let me know that I’m making a difference; I’m righting so many years of wrongs; but most of all it’s Tony who needs you. Since you went down, he’s done nothing but blame himself. I need you to wake up and tell him it wasn’t his fault.”
Ziva moved forward, holding Gibbs’ still hand as she brought her body close to his, “If you don’t wake up and tell him that for me, I’m afraid for him. I’m afraid that he will break in to a million tiny pieces, each jagged edge ripping at his soul, condemning himself for eternity for something that was not… his… fault.”
Ziva’s voice broke slightly and she tightened her grip on the hand she clasped firmly beside her. Tears welled in her dark eyes, blurring her vision of the man in front of her. “My father…”
A tear rolled down one side of her face as she told Gibbs of her memory. “My father once told me that once a person loses their faith in themselves, they are of no more use on this earth. A person has to believe in themselves just to carry on taking breaths; believe that they are something good, and that they are making the world a better place just by being here. If you don’t wake up and tell him that it was not his fault, I’m afraid that I will lose him; I will lose the laughter, and the fun, and the light. If you don’t wake up, Tony will die and be replaced by someone different, someone… who’s not Tony…”
Ziva couldn’t take it any more; tears flooded from her eyes as she mourned for the potential loss she would have to suffer if, one by one, she lost the people closest to her. From hazy eyes, Ziva watched Gibbs intently, desperate for any sign that he had heard her. “Anything, Jethro, just give me a sign that you’ve heard me… anything…”
Ziva’s heart stopped in her chest as she felt a squeeze on her hand, “Gibbs?” she asked quietly.
“Gibbs!” she squeezed back as her mouth creased into a massive smile. Her tears changed from sadness to joy as her prayers were answered. She checked to make sure her brain wasn’t making it up, and sure enough he was still holding onto her hand; in fact, she didn’t quite know if he was ever going to let go.
“TONY, McGEE; I think he’s waking up!” Ziva shouted through the wall. Even before the last syllable left her mouth, there was a crash as the hospital door flung open to reveal a disbelieving McGee, quickly followed by Abby and the Director.
“He’s holding my hand! Look, he won’t let go,” she said lifting up her arm to show the people around her.
“McGee, go and find the doctor, NOW!” the Director shouted as McGee, in shock, hesitated slightly.
“On it, Director,” he said, running off down the hallway.
The Director and Abby had now crowded around Gibbs bed, concentrating on him for any signs of stirring, “Jethro?” the Director said softly, placing her hand on the top of his arm.
“Gibbs?” Abby said from the other side of the metal bed, “It’s Abby; are you coming back to us?”
***
Author's Chapter Notes:
Ziva manages to get a reaction from Gibbs...