Gibbs wished that Dr. Lassiter would say something; other than issuing orders to the nursing staff and a few monosyllabic responses, the physician had said very little to assuage the worry that was consuming both him and DiNozzo. He could easily sense the tension radiating from Tony as the younger man struggled with the pain that was still plaguing him despite the medicine that the nurse had given him earlier; the team leader saw the desperation etched in Tony’s features as his frustration with his circumstances continued to grow. DiNozzo had been through so much already and the thought of another setback was more than either of them could bear; he wondered how many more surprises Tony would willingly accept before he threw in the proverbial towel.
Tony was lying on his side, his jaw clenched tightly as the doctor continued to examine the younger man. The former Marine tightened his grip on Tony’s arm, reassuring the dark haired agent of his presence as Lassiter continued to probe the areas where the bullets had entered DiNozzo’s back. Gibbs was glad that he couldn’t see the scars; it was hard enough knowing that because of his actions Tony was never going to walk again, he didn’t need to see the physical reminder of his carelessness.
With his other hand, he brushed a stray lock of hair off Tony’s forehead that was covered with a light sheen of perspiration. “You doing okay, DiNozzo?” he quietly asked, despite the fact that he already knew the answer to his question.
“Just…peachy, Boss,” Tony gasped. “Couldn’t be…better.”
“You always were a horrible liar, Tony.”
“Actually…I’m a great…liar unless…there’s pain involved.”
Tony’s words echoed in Gibbs’ mind. Yes, DiNozzo had the ability to be a good liar; his past undercover work was a testimony to that fact. Tony was an excellent actor, engaging in a masquerade whenever the situation warranted a facade; whether it was intentional or not, the senior field agent constantly hid behind a mask and only removed it the few times he found himself needing to bare his soul. Now was quickly becoming one of those times.
The pain, the pent up anger, and the sheer aggravation of everything that he had experienced his first day in the rehab center had completely ravaged Tony’s nerves. DiNozzo was trying to hold himself together but with each passing second, he was slipping further away. Gibbs knew that he had to be the source of strength that Tony needed in order to cling on to the miniscule atom of hope that existed in his mind.
“Just hang in there, Tony,” Gibbs softly urged. “We’ll know something soon.”
He gave Tony’s good shoulder a gentle squeeze, prompting Tony to acknowledge him with a slight nod. Gibbs continued to stroke DiNozzo’s hair just like he used to do when he comforted Kelly whenever she was sick or had a bad dream and now he was comforting the son of his heart in the same manner; it was funny how life was a circle.
Gibbs noticed that Lassiter had finally finished his examination and had made his way to the other side of the bed so that he could talk with Tony face to face. DiNozzo blindly reached out and grabbed Gibbs’ hand, tightly clutching it as another wave of pain assaulted him; the agony that Tony had previously experienced seemed to be lessening but he was still battling some remnants of pain that refused to be abated.
“All right, Agent DiNozzo,” Lassiter began. “I guess you’d like to know what’s going on.”
“Do ya think?” Tony gruffly replied.
Gibbs smiled to himself as Tony’s sharp retort seemingly caught the doctor off guard. DiNozzo was hurting and the constant ache had soured his mood to the point where he didn’t care about making a good impression on the physician.
“Well, Agent DiNozzo, I won’t know for sure until after we get some X-rays, but my guess is that the bullet fragments in your back have shifted slightly and are pressing against a nerve.”
“And that’s your best guess? With all the poking…and prodding you’ve been doing…all you have is a guess?”
“Yes,” Lassiter admitted. “Like I said, we’ll be sending you down for X-rays momentarily and then once I get them back, we’ll have a better idea of what’s happening.”
Gibbs tamped down his own anger as he continued to listen to the conversation between the doctor and DiNozzo. Tony’s pain was fueling his venomous words as he slung them at the doctor. He was glad that DiNozzo’s shrink wasn’t around; the last thing that Tony needed was Dr. Williams seeing her patient in what could be a full blown rant. Gibbs had been on the receiving end of a DiNozzo tirade a couple of times and needless to say, it wasn’t pretty.
“I want to know what’s going on!” Tony demanded. “What does it mean if the fragments…are shifting? Does it mean I’m going to walk again? Does it mean that I’m going to lose the use of the rest…of my…body? Am I going to have…to live with the pain? Quit beating…around the bush and be…honest with me!”
“I am being honest with you, Agent DiNozzo,” the doctor replied with a forced calmness.
“Then…answer my questions!”
“I can’t until after I see the X-rays. I’m going to order you something else to take off the edge and…”
“I don’t want it.”
“Believe me, you’ll want it.”
He knew that Tony was too worked up now to listen to the doctor’s reasoning; the Marine wasn’t sure that DiNozzo would even listen to him but he had to try and calm the hurting man before Tony did anymore damage to himself.
“Tony?” Gibbs called out, cautious of the agent’s frame of mind.
“What?” Tony snapped.
Gibbs cupped his face, forcing the young man to look at him. “Listen to me,” he instructed, knowing Tony wouldn’t refuse one of his orders; a pang of guilt swept over him as he used DiNozzo’s unwavering loyalty to his advantage.
“I know you’re hurting and you’re pissed but you need to try and relax and let them do their job,” Gibbs stated.
“What have they been doing…for the last thirty minutes? I can’t…take this; I need to know what’s…going on! I’ve had enough surprises for one day,” Tony reminded him.
He hated hearing Tony’s desperate pleas but there were no words that he could offer that would comfort the ailing man; DiNozzo wanted answers and Gibbs couldn’t blame him for being angry. “I know,” Gibbs sighed. “We’re going to figure out what’s wrong but in the meantime, you need to relax; getting yourself worked up isn’t going to help matters.”
“I know…I’m just…I’m just…”
“Scared?”
Tony weakly smiled. “DiNozzos…don’t get scared.”
“Really?” Gibbs challenged.
“Maybe a…little,” Tony conceded. “Can we keep…that little tidbit…just between us?”
Even after all those years DiNozzo’s insecurities haunted him at the most inopportune times, causing him to doubt himself and those around him. It was important to Tony to appear confident and in control and Gibbs’ bullets had taken both those abilities from him. He quickly tamped down his feelings of guilt; Gibbs had made a promise to Tony not to dwell in the past and he intended to keep it.
“Don’t worry, DiNozzo; I’ve got your back.”
“Thanks, Boss.”
The door opened as two aides entered the room with a gurney, presumably to take Tony to X-ray. Gibbs wished that DiNozzo would have permitted the doctor to give him something to help with his anxiety but Tony had the right to make his own decisions and he wasn’t going to tell the agent otherwise. “Looks like your ride is here,” he announced.
Tony merely nodded as the two men carefully maneuvered and positioned him on the gurney. Gibbs pulled up the blanket and tucked it around Tony’s frame, the gesture reminiscent of a father tucking in his child.
“I’ll be here when you get back,” he vowed.
“All right.”
Gibbs watched the gurney disappear from sight. Raking his hands through his hair, he suddenly realized how tired he was; the emotional fallout from everything that had happened that day was beginning to catch up with him and his body was screaming at him for a reprieve. Sitting down in the chair that he had already claimed as his own, Gibbs slumped down in it as he tried to make himself comfortable. He laid his head back against the cushion and closed his eyes, hoping that he would be able to catch a few minutes of sleep.
As he drifted off, Gibbs found himself feeling both grateful and guilty as he enjoyed these few moments of solitude; he tried to tell himself that he deserved the time to himself but the reminder that Tony was in limbo, waiting to discover what was wrong with him, filled his mind with doubt and regret. The team leader succumbed to the sweet arms of slumber, his thoughts quickly melding into dreams that would only serve to remind him of the high price of his carelessness. So much for learning to live with his guilt; it was difficult to put the past behind you when it kept resurfacing in your dreams.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Knowing that he wouldn’t be able to sleep, Timothy McGee went back to the office in hopes of finding enough work to keep himself busy so he wouldn’t have to think about his disastrous visit with Tony. He had been convinced that he had been doing the right thing by telling Tony about his promotion but the conversation had not gone as planned and now he had probably lost one of the best friends that he had ever had. What had he been thinking? McGee had been asking himself that question ever since he had left the rehabilitation center and he had yet to come up with an acceptable answer, especially one that would ease his conscience.
“Why couldn’t I just leave well enough alone?” he mumbled.
“McGee? What are you doing here?”
He looked up to see Ziva approaching his desk. She was obviously dressed for a night out on the town and if Tony were here, he would stop at nothing to learn everything about where she was going and whom she would be going with; quite frankly, he couldn’t find it within himself to care. “Hey Ziva,” he sighed.
“I did not know that you were working tonight; I thought you were going home after you saw…”
“Tony,” he finished.
Ziva perched on the edge of his desk. “I take it that things did not go well,” she assumed.
“Nope.”
“What happened?”
McGee shrugged, his gaze fixed on the blank computer screen. “Let’s just say that it didn’t go as planned. I thought that it would be better coming from me before he heard it from someone else; he wasn’t ready to hear it at all.”
She tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear. “Well McGee, Tony does have a lot to deal with; he’s still getting used to the idea that he will never walk again; I’m sure that once he thinks about it some more that he will be relieved to know that you are watching Gibbs’ back.”
“You really think so?” he asked.
Ziva’s silence answered McGee’s question; unfortunately it wasn’t the answer that he wanted. “That’s what I thought,” he groaned. “I don’t know what to do, Ziva. I feel like I’ve waited so long for this opportunity and now that I have the chance to prove that I’m ready to be a senior field agent, but I’m not sure that it’s worth the price. I want this so bad that I can taste it. I’ve learned so much from Tony and I know I can do the job.”
“I’m sure you can or the Director would not have suggested you for the position,” Ziva rationalized.
“But?”
“But convincing Gibbs that you can do the job is going to be difficult; truthfully, he will be harder to convince than Tony. Gibbs is still planning on Tony returning to NCIS and until he knows for sure that he isn’t, you’re going to have an uphill battle on your hands.”
He considered Ziva’s words for a moment. “Do you think Tony will come back?”
Once again, his question was met with an awkward silence; it was a few seconds before Ziva managed to reply, “I do not know.”
“Gibbs seems to thinks he will,” McGee pointed out.
“Only time will tell.”
McGee glanced over at Tony’s empty desk; it was a desk that he had occupied for a few months during Gibbs’ self imposed sabbatical and a desk that he had hoped to occupy once again. Was he willing to advance his career at the expense of the respect and friendship of his team? Were Gibbs and Tony being fair to him putting him in this position?
He shook his head, clearing the cobwebs that were starting to take residence as he forced himself to return to his present reality. “Ziva? Have you seen Tony since that first day in the hospital?” McGee wasn’t sure where that question had come from but he had suddenly been overcome by the necessity of redirecting the conversation away from his problem.
“No, I have not.”
Surprise and disbelief were etched in his features; surely he had misunderstood her. “What?”
“We’ve been busy, McGee,” she shot back defiantly. “I’m going to give him time to get settled at the rehab center and then I will…um…go and see him.”
McGee couldn’t believe that Ziva had yet to see DiNozzo; the two of them had a unique relationship and it had developed into an unusual friendship that had a tendency to bring out the best and worst in each of them. The only time she had seen him, Tony had been in a medically induced coma with wires attached to his body; the sight of their injured friend must have been harder on her than she had originally let on.
“I guess that’s a good idea,” McGee reluctantly agreed. “Maybe I should’ve done that.”
Ziva pushed herself off his desk and began to pace. “Truthfully, I am nervous about seeing him; I can not imagine what Tony is going through. I do not want the awkwardness that undoubtedly would be between us to add to his stress.”
“Awkwardness?” he pressed.
“I do not know what to say to him,” she explained. “Tony is my partner and I am uncertain as to how I’m supposed to act around him at the moment. It would be like having a hippopotamus in the room.”
“Elephant,” Tim corrected.
“What?”
“You mean an elephant in the room.”
“Whatever! I am just not ready to see Tony so…still.”
“Maybe you don’t have to say anything; maybe just knowing that you care will be enough. I think he’s kind of feeling alone, especially after I dumped my news on him.”
He could tell that Ziva was quietly pondering his words. “Perhaps I will go by tomorrow.”
“If you do, could you give him a message for me?” Maybe Tony would listen to Ziva and she could convince DiNozzo that he never meant to hurt him. Although he wanted the promotion, he didn’t want to lose Tony’s friendship; maybe Ziva could convince DiNozzo that he was right in accepting the Director’s offer.
“Of course.”
Tim swallowed hard as he searched for the right words. “Could you tell him…could you tell him that I’m sorry?”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Tony had just arrived back in his room, the X-rays that had been ordered had been completed and now he was waiting on Dr. Lassiter to come and talk to him. When the aides had brought him back, he immediately noticed that Gibbs was asleep and he motioned to the orderlies to be quiet as they repositioned him back in his own bed. The team leader had constantly been by his side and deserved to rest; Tony was envious of the older man’s ability to sleep anywhere.
He was grateful that the pain he had been experiencing earlier was all but gone, but so were his hopes that he was actually getting some feeling back in his legs. Tony had determined that he would gladly live with the constant agony if it meant he’d be able to walk; unfortunately, fate had one again intervened with his hopes and dreams.
Within a couple of minutes, he was situated in his bed with nothing but Gibbs’ soft snores to keep him company. He picked up a cup of water and took a sip, grateful for the relief that the cool liquid bought to his parched throat. Setting the glass back down, Tony glanced around his room, his expressive orbs finally coming to rest on the team leader.
Making sure that Gibbs was still asleep, Tony laid his head back on the pillow as he fixed his gaze towards the ceiling. He was so tired of acting like nothing was wrong; he was angry at the injustice of his situation but he had no one to blame but himself.
“Why me?” he whispered. Tony had never considered himself a religious person and he knew that he didn’t have any right to try and bargain with God, but at the moment, he felt like he didn’t have anywhere else to turn.
“I know that we haven’t talked since my mom died,” Tony began, “but I’ve got to talk to someone. I guess I could talk to my shrink but I’m not quite sure what I think about her yet and Gibbs, well, he’s asleep and I don’t want to wake him up; besides, I think that this is something that only you can handle.
“I never thought of myself as a bad person but now, I kind of have to wonder; I guess that bad things happen to good people and it’s not that I believe that I’m good, but…” Tony blew out a shaky breath. This conversation wasn’t going like he had originally planned. “I admit that I’m not a saint but I’m not sure that I deserved this; or maybe I do. I need my legs, God,” he pleaded. “If I’ve got any hope of going back to work, I have to be able to walk. My job is all I know; it’s who I am.
“I’m not going to lie to you and say that I’m going to move to Africa and wear Bermuda shorts and do hard labor, but I will try and be a better person,” he vowed. “It’ll take me a while to get over McGee trying to undermine me but I’ll work on it; I’ll stay out of Ziva’s love life and I’ll up my donation to the youth center downtown. I’ll do anything! I just…I just want to walk. Please God! I’m begging you.”
Tony choked back a sob, afraid that he would awaken Gibbs. “Please give me back my legs. Please…”
A single tear escaped as his eyes began to close. Denial, anger, bargaining; thanks to the pamphlets that he had been reading, he knew the stages of grief all too well. Unfortunately now he had to look forward to depression and acceptance; he figured depression was going to come easy but he didn’t know if he would ever accept the fact that he would never walk again.
Maybe he would be lucky and God would answer his prayer, but the way his luck had been going, he wasn’t counting on it. Tony couldn’t blame God if he had ignored his poor attempt at praying but at least he had tried. As he drifted off to sleep, he never felt the team leader pull the blanket up to his chin and tuck it under his still frame and he never heard Gibbs whisper his own prayer.
“That goes for me too,” Gibbs quietly added. “Amen.”
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