As the sun edges up over the pale wash of cliffs just to the east of the Double D Lodge, there's a quiet music, of sorts, that begins to fill the air. It's not the sometimes-harsh notes or sounds emanating from human vocal cords or even the mechanical cadences attributed to instruments or technology but the natural, gentle harmonies of the world, itself, waking up to a brand-new day.
The signaling of the fresh morning, brought on by the appearance of Sol's earliest warmed-hued tinges across the Eastern sky, heralds the overture for the day. The morning melodies of the warblers and wrens, the sparrows and doves, at first sporadic and disjointed, become a blending of calls and answers from every point of the surrounding landscape. Even the playful mockingbird echoes the sounds he hears, responding and repeating the songs he deems notable and worthwhile.
The landscape, too, seems to join in the orchestration, accompanying the birds with and underscore of soft tones and mellow modulations. The breeze plays over the sharp rocks and tall plumes of wild grasses, setting the hard, brittle seed pods they hold to swaying and shaking and rattling. This, also, is unrecognized music, of sorts, and all part of the natural rhythms of life.
There's still a bit of chill in the air, the West Texas temperatures always capable of dropping fairly low during a cloudless overnight, but the rising sun promises a day full of warmth and comfort...for awhile, at least. As the morning is pushed away and afternoon crawls in for a visit, the thermometer will climb and force any unprotected individual back into cooler areas or will leave its mark on those foolhardy enough to venture out unguarded against the damaging rays and moisture-stealing heat. This is harsh, brutal country for anyone not accustomed to it's whims and demands but, for those with the proper mindset, the area around Red Bluff Dam and Reservoir is a haven of solitude and comfort and immeasurable peace.
Pushing open the front entry to his lodge, Daniel Dunn steadied his mug of hot, strong, black coffee and stepped out into the early morning dimness, his keen eyes drifting over and settling immediately on the scattering of military tents and structures that had sprung up since Gibbs and his Marines arrived two days prior. There was a flicker of movement just to right, near the edge of the long porch, and Dunn saw the shadowed outline of an unknown jarhead standing watch, the Marine's profile almost lost as he stood silent sentinel over the lodge and it's civilian inhabitants. Dunn nodded in that direction, just to let the man know he was spotted, but the Marine remained still and watchful, focused on his task with single-minded efficiency.
Taking a careful sip of his coffee, Dunn noticed there was some subdued activity in one of the larger tents close to the machinery shed and realized it was the place the Marines were using as their mess, the cook and his assistant obviously already up and working on the first meal of the day. The small group of individuals sent to patrol the surrounding area and protect Gibbs and his people from 'hostiles' didn't seem to need much but Dunn suspected they were being treated exceptionally well and fed accordingly. This was an unusual situation for all involved and he knew not to examine the circumstances too closely. Unfortunately, he'd already received a call from Reuben Manning about the presence of the armed Marines on his property and knew the word would spread quickly...his nearest neighbor was hard-pressed to keep any kind of news under wraps and, realistically, no one was going to believe the deception of 'extreme-terrain manuevers' for one moment.
Shit. These were Texans, not a bunch of out-of-state morons.
Moving away from the doorway and coming to rest against one of the huge, rough support posts at the front of the wide, wooden porch, Dunn leaned a shoulder heavily against the solid, course column, crossed his legs casually at the ankles, and heaved a soft sigh. Squinting toward the East, in the direction of the rapidly-approaching light, he watched as one, luminous, glowing band began peeking over a craggy rim of the canyon cliff.
"Do the days always start like this?"
The question was so quiet and so unexpected, the older man actually flinched before he could contain the action and jerked his eyes toward the sound of the restrained voice, his gaze immediately settling on the one person of Gibbs' group that made him feel the most uncomfortable. Cussing under his breath for not noticing the quiet, young woman when he came outside, Dunn debated on answering the whispered inquiry...or simply turning away and ignoring the freak all together.
Yeah, that would work. No sense in spoiling the beginning of a potentially fine day any more than necessary.
"Wait!" Abby blurted as Dunn began to move back in the direction of the door, unfolding her long legs from the security of the large, oak rocker but choosing to remain seated. Her fingers gripped the hard, solid armrests and her fuzzy-slippered feet moved restlessly on the planks below.
Dunn stopped, his back still turned toward Gibbs' forensics expert, and took a deep, calming breath. "Got nothing to say to you."
That brought the young woman up and out of the seat and to a spot directly behind the weather-toughened former Marine. She was ready for a confrontation and, although she was carrying Bert securely snuggled under one arm, her eyes were steady and serious.
"Well," she nodded and shifted from foot to foot, glancing momentarily to one side in a flash of uncertainty, "I think I've got something I need to say to you."
"No."
Abby's face scrunched into a frown, taken aback by the casual forcefulness of the simple word. "No? What do you mean 'no'?"
Dunn whirled around at the disbelief he heard, startling Abby for a moment, and curled his upper lip as he looked down at her ridiculous attire, letting his eyes distastefully rake her from head to fuzzy foot and back again. "Gibbs says you're smart. Sure doesn't seem that way to me."
"Well, what *does* it seem like?" She huffed at the disagreeable expression on his lined face, frowning anew and dropping Bert to the flooring so she could place both her fists on her hips, unintentionally looking more like a tempemental child than a grown woman. "You don't even know me..."
"And I don't plan to," Dunn cut in sharply. "Why don't you take that stupid, farting toy," he nudged it absently with the toe of one boot, "go back inside, and stay the hell away from me? I'm sure there's *something* useful Gibbs can find for you to do that doesn't involve getting anywhere near me. You've done it for the past day and a half...just keep at it and we'll have no problems."
"We *already* have a problem," Abby stressed, eyes growing dark and voice deepening even more, "and I know *exactly* why you don't like me."
"Is that so?" Dunn folded his arms across his chest, just barely keeping himself from sneering. "Well, why don't you just enlighten me then?"
Abby nodded and took a step closer, ignoring the fire she could see in the man's eyes. "It's because you're afraid of me."
The almost-sneer evaporated immediately. Dunn's mouth opened...and closed...with no sound emerging. He shook his head at the woman, visibly denying her outrageous assumption, and managed to huff a hard, quick laugh.
"Girlie," he mocked, "you are *so* wrong about that."
"Oh, I don't think I am," Abby let a majority of her anger wash away and tilted her head to one side, carefully studying the man's expression. "What? You think you're the first person who's treated me like I had a bad case of the cooties or something?"
Dunn frowned, eyebrows canting downward like the corners of his mouth. "Cooties?"
"Oh, you know what I mean," she waved a hand absently and bent to retrieve Bert, giving the stuffed hippo a hug and smiling indulgently when it made it's patented rude noise. "It's a fact of human nature that most people will ridicule and belittle the things they're most afraid of. It helps to make them feel more in control of their emotions, more powerful, more able dictate the circumstances. Like you. But at least most people are willing to look past the tats and clothing before they offer an opinion about me. Unlike you." She shook her head and set her pigtails to swinging. "You didn't even give me the benefit of the doubt...just lumped me into that old 'she's not worth the spit in my mouth' category."
"If you have a point, better get to it," Dunn hissed, uncomfortable with her evaluation.
"My point is," Abby stood tall and looked Dunn right in the eyes, "I don't deserve this kind of treatment from you or anyone else. I'm a good person, a nice person. I work hard and pay my taxes. I contribute to society. I help keep this country safe from people who want to hurt sailors and Marines and I've worked for Gibbs st NCIS for years."
"That doesn't make you a saint..."
Abby giggled and batted her eyelashes, inordinately pleased when she saw Dunn shift back a bit. "Oh, I'm far from sainthood," she cooed agreeably, "but I'm not in cahoots with Lucifer either! I just don't look at other people and lump them into some asinine category just because I don't necessarily like the way they look. Everyone has their own style...take you for instance."
"Me?" Dunn's expression rapidly morphed from anger to surprise.
"Well, sure," Abby nodded with a bright smile, pointing one black-polished fingernail toward Dunn's head. "Some may automatically assume you're a skinhead, just because you choose to shave your dome." She watched as he ran a hand absently over the smooth skin covering his skull. "I know that's not who you are because I've seen Gibbs interact with you and, if you were some neo-Nazi, narrow-minded bigot, Gibbs wouldn't even give you the time of day. Plus, I haven't seen any swastikas or hate messages or white supremacy logos tattooed across your body." She pouted her lips and gave an exaggerated impression of some serious thinking. "And although I haven't seen *all* your body yet, I'm pretty sure the only body art you may have is something related to the Marines...or your mother...or something along those lines."
"I don't..."
She wouldn't let him take back control of their conversation and just continued on her merry way. "Others could possibly believe you're a survivalist, which could go hand-in-hand with being a skinhead, especially since you can be pretty self-sustaining here at this lodge. You could live off the land, killing Bambis and Thumpers for food, using wood from the trees for energy, and protecting yourself with all that firepower you've got locked away in those gun cases in the trophy room." She scrunched her face in bewilderment. "And what's that all about anyway? All those dead animal heads hanging on the walls, staring back all the time." She shuddered. "Gives me the creeps just to work in there."
Dunn was speechless...for a moment. "You...you think I look like a skinhead?"
Abby could tell the man was appalled by the mere notion of being associated with such an organization and rushed to assure him. "No, no...I didn't say *I* thought you were a skinhead but, come on, you have to know you give out these real creepy vibes sometimes. You know, harsh and single-minded and inflexible...jumping to conclusions about people because of the way they look or dress." She offered a small smile. "But Gibbs says you're a good guy and, if he gives you his seal of approval, than I believe him. Gibbs is *the* man."
Dunn shifted a bit from foot to foot and looked at the young woman with assessing eyes. "He...he said you were okay, too."
"He did?" Abby grinned, immediately pleased by the confession and preening a bit in smug satisfaction at the reluctant
admission. "Cool."
Dunn huffed at her expression. "Well, don't go getting a big head about it now. He probably says that about all his people."
Her smile lost a bit of wattage and she looked up at the slightly taller man from under a fall of dark bangs. "Yeah, you're probably right...just like he probably says the same about *all* the guys he served with while in the Corps. Right?"
Dunn knew he'd been maneuvered into a clever trap because there had been plenty of guys Gibbs hadn't liked. They'd exchanged frowns and shared terse comments about guys in their unit, men they'd joined in combat, fellow grunts they'd thought were nothing more than simple wastes of human skin. If Gibbs didn't think a person was doing his part or pulling his weight, he made a point of steering clear and avoiding the dullard at all costs. Gibbs was *not* a man to suffer fools easily.
Eyeing the dark-haired woman again with a small measure of suspicion, and a growing bit of respect, he let his gaze drift again down the body, taking in the black shirt and black pants and the equally black, fuzzy slippers. He didn't even want to know where she'd found those but he cracked a smirk at the thought nonetheless.
"You can't wear dark clothes like this out here. You're just asking for a heat stroke."
Abby arched an eyebrow, pretending she didn't hear the beginnings of his capitulation. "Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah," Dunn hooked a thumb back in his own direction. "You got to dress light and in layers...like me. Keeps the sun and the heat from sapping out the moisture. Even those jarheads out there," his hand swept in the direction of the organized array of tents, "know which camos to wear in this terrain. Maybe you should take lessons from them."
Abby seemed to consider the notion. "Hhmm, you may be right..."
"Of course I am."
"...but I don't think they'd be willing to share their gear with me and all the clothes I've brought are dark."
"All of them?" The whole idea sounded ludicrous to him and he couldn't help but stare in bewilderment at this strange, young woman.
She could hear the disbelief clearly in his voice and had to smile coyly. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not a pastel kind of girl."
An answering smile tugged at Dunn's mouth as he reassessed the figure before him. "No, I guess you're not."
Abby shrugged and stepped back, gaze turning in the direction of the rising sun. "I guess I'll just have to stay indoors while I'm here then." Her voice held a wispy note of disappointment. "It's not like I have to see things...even though I've never been to Texas before. There's always stuff to keep me busy. I guess..."
Dunn took another sip of his all-but-forgotten coffee and growled, eyes studying the profile of the young woman. He knew he was being expertly manipulated but, for some reason, just didn't seem to mind. Not anymore.
"You know, I have a daughter who's about your size..."
"Really?" She asked, all wide-eyed and innocent.
Duun barked a laugh and shook his head at her expression. "That wasn't a question, missy, that was a statement and I know damn well you know all about her already."
Abby wiggled a bit and smiled back at the man. "Okay, so I *do* know about Amanda. Can't blame a girl for trying."
"Oh, yes, I can," he puffed and shook his head. "Anyway, what I'm getting at is, you could probably borrow something of hers while you're here..."
Abby's eyes lit up. "You mean it? I could do like 'dress up'?"
Dunn was worriedly shaking his head, images of facing Amanda's wrath if she came home to find her old prom dresses or Sunday church garb mysteriously adorned with chains or studs flashing through his mind. "No! No dress up. Please." He sighed loudly and let his shoulders sag a bit in defeat. "You can use some of her outdoor wear. You know, jeans and..."
"Jeans?!" Abby's voice was full of aversion and she actually shivered a bit for show. She cast her soulful eyes in his direction. "Are they, at least, black?"
He couldn't help but laugh at her unhappy expression. "No."
Abby sighed forlornly. "I guess I don't have much of a choice."
"Not if you plan on seeing some of the sites while you're here."
She seemed to consider...just for another moment. "And I sure don't want to fry my behind."
"Certainly not."
Squeezing Bert hard and raising her twinkling, mischievous eyes when it rudely produced a loud, obnoxious sound, Abby nodded her head. "Okay. I guess I'll take you up on the offer."
"Okay, then," Dunn agreed and started back toward the doorway, tilting his head in a motion to get her to follow.
Extremely satisfied with herself, Abby nodded and followed in his direction, offering the man a warm, happy smile. Narrowing his eyes and looking into her pleased face, Dunn shook his head as he opened the door for her.
"Did Gibbs put you up to this?" He asked suspiciously but without rancor.
"This? No," Abby answered honestly, "but he did suggest I talk to you."
Dunn studied the dark-haired woman-child closely for a brief moment before allowing an indulgent smile to reappear. "He can be a smart man."
Abby nodded her agreement and took the arm he so galantly offered, escorting her back inside and out of the early-morning sunshine. From her point of view and after getting things straightened out with Daniel Dunn, this was, indeed, the start of a perfectly great day.
______________________________________
Jethro Gibbs quietly opened the door and eased inside, quickly closing the wooden panel behind with as much care as he could muster, his keen eyes imediately moving to fall upon the still figure on the bed situated on the other side of the room. The interior of the space had rapidly shifted from a place of rest and relaxation into the appearance of a real hospital unit in a matter of only hours. There were so many monitors and machines and IV lines and portable oxygen tanks and items surrounding the young man in the bed that Gibbs idly thought all they really needed now to make this place seem more like a real hospital was some money-eating machine in the hallway outside, disensing third-rate, bland-tasting, lukewarm coffee.
DiNozzo looked the same as he had when Gibbs had left to get some sleep several hours ago: no movement of any kind and the aura of peaceful slumber. Just to one side of the bed, Roberta Wainwright was seated in a nice, leather, winged-back chair pulled very close to the edge of the mattress and within touching distance of the figure under the covers. Gibbs caught her eye and nodded once in her direction before stepping closer. Wainwright nodded absently back but Gibbs could see she was busy recording some information on the charts she and Ducky had begun making on their patient as soon as they'd been able to get him settled and examined. Not wishing to disturb her, he paused and watched as her pen scratched fast and accurately across some thin sheaf of paper.
Stopping at the foot of the bed and eyeing the rapidly expanding chart the woman held securely upon her lap, Gibbs pursed his lips together tightly and frowned as he thought of all the medical mumbo-jumbo he'd heard the two physicians discussing since their arrival, their heads bent together as they compared results and observations and ideas. He hadn't liked their dual, grim faces, hadn't liked Ducky's frighteningly concerned words, and certainly hadn't liked the Lieutenant Commander's announcement that DiNozzo had been given too much morphine and probably now had to fight the horrors of addiction on top of all his other physical maladies. But, more than that, what had disturbed him the most was DiNozzo's continued, desperate, weakening calls for Tobias Fornell, as the FBI agent had been pulled away and escorted from the younger man's side.
That, above all else, had sent a sharp spike of agony deep into his heart.
As Fornell had been ushered away, Gibbs had held the distraught young man tightly, wrapping the trembling body safely within his strong arms, had tried to soothe the fairly wretched pleas, whispering his own words of reassurance and comfort, and had come very near hating himself when he could find no way to ease the soft, heartbroken sobs that continued from the dry, parched lips. DiNozzo had fought them all and, even in his weakened state, it had been obvious he had wanted no one but Fornell at his side and in his arms. It had hurt Gibbs then...and the memory continued to hurt him even now.
Moving slowly to the other side of the bed, directly across from Wainwright, Gibbs eased down to sit on the firm mattress and cast a wary eye in the woman's direction before refocusing totally on DiNozzo. The younger man was obviously still asleep, blissfully unaware of the turmoil surrounding his care over the past several days, and it gave Gibbs the opportunity to study the youthful face without interruption.
Reposed in slumber, DiNozzo's pale face was bathed in a fine sheen of perspiration and his eyes danced restlessly beneath the closed, bruised-looking lids. The absurdly long lashes fanned across the high cheek bones, the skin in that area just as discolored-looking and fragile, and Gibbs fought back a moment of unexpected and unnerving despair. He wanted...no, needed...to hold DiNozzo, to make him understand they were all doing what they could, under the circumstances, to help in his recovery, and to let the younger man know he still wanted to continue their repeatedly interrupted relationship. But, now, all it seemed he could do was sit idly by and observe.
"He's dreaming," Wainwright's soft voice took him by surprise and disturbed his thoughts. "That Rapid Eye Movement is a dead giveaway."
Again, Gibbs nodded but didn't look her way, keeping his gaze on his agent, hoping the dreams were kind. "How was his night?"
Wainwright shifted and closed the thick folder, interlacing her fingers over where it rested on her ample lap. "Much better than the night before."
'Hell,' thought Gibbs morosely, '*anything* had to have been better than the first night.'
The previous night had been nothing short of a waking nightmare for all of them, full of struggling and crying and pleading, and it had almost been too much even for Gibbs to witness. Almost. There had been a brief discussion about the use of restraints and bindings and Gibbs had come close to losing control of his barely constrained fury before Ducky's calming voice had reminded Wainwright of the horrors DiNozzo had endured while at the hands of Emilio Martinez. There would be no restraints for DiNozzo...not while anyone from NCIS was around...but it had been a near thing. Gibbs had grit his teeth and held on tight to his writhing agent, restricting the younger man's movements with his arms and legs until he'd, basically, just worn himself out.
"He even roused around 0300 and was lucid enough to have a few sips of water," Wainwright continued and stretched as much as she could in the confines of the thickly padded chair. She offered a small smile that Gibbs never saw. "That's a very good sign."
"If you say so."
Wainright sighed and stood stiffly, twisting a bit to place the chart on a nearby desk, and then eyed the silver-haired man solemnly. "Look, Agent Gibbs, I'd like to take a quick tip to the head and Doctor Mallard's not due to relieve me for another," she glanced quickly at her wristwatch, "forty-two minutes. Think you can hold down the fort until I can get there and back?"
"Of course," he finally turned to face the woman and watched as she rubbed her tired, red-rimmed eyes with the knuckles of both hands. She and Ducky were doing all they possibly could but, so far, it seemed like nothing more than data collecting. Gibbs frowned as he thought of a new concern. "The biologist from the CDC...when will..."
"Later today, I'm told," Wainwright cut in quickly as she reached to take a closer look at the port in DiNozzo's left hand, gently smoothing down a piece of white tape with the tip of one finger, and then straightening. "If Agent DiNozzo should awaken before I return, just be as reassuring as you can...and offer him some more water. Keep track of what he drinks, if you can." She offered a small, grim smile. "Input/output..you know how it is."
Gibbs nodded his understanding. "Will do."
Wainwright nodded again and turned, moving immdiately toward the doorway. Gibbs stayed as he was until he heard the door click closed and, when he was really sure she was gone, reached out and tenderly brushed his fingertips across DiNozzo's warm forehead, enjoying the brief moment of privacy and the direct skin-to-skin contact. Sighing, he let his hand trace down the slightly damp cheek, around the long neck, and across the slim shoulder, running his palm from bicep to wrist and holding firm. Gibbs lowered his head, closed his eyes, and willed DiNozzo to keep fighting.
When the arm under his fingers suddenly twitched slightly, Gibbs looked quickly back to the younger man's face and watched the sleepy, glazed, green eyes blink sluggishly open. He leaned closer and waited patiently, not sure if the heavy lids would remain open or re-close as sleep beckoned once again. It was a battle but when they stayed at half-mast and the dilated eyes shifted minutely his way, Gibbs was overjoyed.
"Hey," he whispered and reached acoss DiNozzo's body to snag a hold of a cup of water, getting it ready in case the younger man requested a sip. "How are you doing?"
DiNozzo blinked lazily, drugged-blurred eyes on Gibbs' mouth, almost like he hadn't heard the softly-spoken question but had only seen the movement of the man's lips. Gibbs sighed and cautiously touched a warm, sleep-kissed cheek, once more grateful for the simple contact, and tied to break through the fog again.
"Tony? Can you hear me?"
It took a few moments but the eyes slowly rose to meet his and, when they did, he couldn't contain his grin of pleasure. DiNozzo's glassy gaze roamed slowly over his face, traveling a snail-pace path from forehead to cheek to chin and back up the other side, until they dropped to remain fixed on the blue eyes hovering so close. A small wrinkle of confusion formed and settled between DiNozzo's dark eyebrows and the dry, chapped lips parted.
"G...ibbs?"
The sound was weak, slurred, and raspy and all Gibbs wanted to do was get the young man to drink. "Yeah, it's me. Here," he affirmed and quickly maneuvered until he had an arm under the slim shoulders, carefully keeping the various lines and tubes free and clear of entanglement, "try to drink some water."
The bent straw hovered close to DiNozzo's lips but he acted as though he wasn't even aware of its presence. Maybe he wasn't. Gibbs frowned and tried again.
"Tony," he whispered, bringing his face closer and elevating the shoulders slightly, "just take a small sip for me. Okay? Can you do that?"
There was a tiny, almost non-existent nod and Gibbs was directing the tip of the plastic straw between the dry lips, watching carefully as DiNozzo continued to watch him, a bit disconcerted by the dazed but intense stare. A little of the cool fluid was drawn up but it wasn't nearly as much as the former Marine thought should be drunk. He tried to gently prod the younger man into comsuming more but it was a lost cause and he finally gave up, reluctantly setting the container back on the side table. He eased DiNozzo to the pillow and brushed his fingers through the lank hair, trying not to worry too much about the continued intense stare.
"Doctor Wainwright said you had a fairly good night," he decided to fill the silence with a few positive words, not even sure if DiNozzo knew who Doctor Wainwright was. It didn't really matter. "That's exactly what you need right now: plenty of rest. And water."
DiNozzo's frown seemed to deepen a bit and his lips parted again. "G...ibs?"
The repeated inquiry rattled Gibbs but he tried to calm his concerns, knowing the drugs were dulling the ususlly sharp senses. "Yeah, Tony, it's me."
DiNozzo blinked hard and his eyes momentarily shifted from Gibbs' face to glance to the left of the bed, right where Fornell had been at one time, before resettling on the familiar blue gaze again. "Wh...what are...you...do...ing...here?"
Gibbs frowned at the question. "I'm here to be with you, Tony."
Silence stretched between them as they studied each other carefully and, when DiNozzo spoke again, his expression even more perplexed, it was not what Gibbs expected to hear. "W...why?"
'Why?' Gibbs' own frown grew as the bewildered-sounding inquiry resonated in his brain and he found himself easing a bit away. What the hell was going through DiNozzo's head?
"Where else would I be?" He asked gently, trying to keep the apprehension from his voice.
The question seemed to cause the younger man a bit of discomfort and he looked away, dazed eyes suddenly dropping shyly to one side. "I...I don't...know...but..." he swallowed thickly, "not here."
Gibbs didn't like to ever hear or ever see DiNozzo's confusion but especially not now, while he was still very weak and vulnerable. Gently, he cupped the warm cheek in the palm of one hand and forced the glazed gaze to return.
"Of course I'd be here with you," he tried to assure, stroking the hair again, watching as DiNozzo automatically pushed slightly into the movement, seeking the contact even if he was uncertain of the reason behind it. Gibbs wondered just how often Fornell had touched him like this and had to immediately force that thought away. "I want to always be here for you, no matter what. Is that all right with you?"
"I...I...guess so," the response was whispered dully.
"I want you to *know*, Tony. I don't want you to ever doubt me. Understand?"
DiNozzo tried to look away from those intense blue eyes again but was trapped by Gibbs' grip on his chin. He could feel the warm puffs of breath from the older man's mouth and could see the determined sincerity in the concerned face but just couldn't get his heart and head to believe what he was hearing and seeing and feeling. He sighed in frustration and closed his tired eyes, not wanting to face this reality...not just yet.
"What is it?" He could hear Gibbs speaking and it eased an ache, somewhat, that had grown steadily in his chest. "Tony? What's wrong? Please open your eyes and look at me."
The sound of the quiet, honest request brought prickles to the backs of his lids and he reluctantly obeyed the appeal, peering up into Gibbs' worried face. Knowing he was starting to cry but not understanding why he wasn't able to control his emotions, DiNozzo took as deep a breath as he was able and tried to get his muddled brain to explain.
"You...left...me," he choked raggedly, weak voice breaking, "and Ziva...came. But...you didn't. Only her. And...then Tobias...came. Not...you. Never you...never...you...just Tobias..."
Gibbs felt his heart twist painfully and he reached to capture DiNozzo's face in both hands, cupping the smooth skin, and holding gently, feeling very determined to have his true feelings known. "I'm here *now*, Tony, and I'm not leaving. Do you hear me? I'm not going to leave you again."
"Vic...Victoria is...dead," DiNozzo's voice wavered even more and the tears broke free from the spiky confines of his lashes, trailing down the sides of his anguished face to dampen his hairline even more. "Dead..."
"Shh, I know," Gibbs immediately reached to pull the younger man back into his arms, thinking of nothing else but comforting the wounded soul of his damaged agent...his new lover. "I know, Tony."
"And...Millie, too...she's dead...both of...them."
"I know, I know," Gibbs rocked them both gently, lips pressed against the warm forehead and strong arms holding securely. "It'll be all right...it'll be all right."
DiNozzo slowly raised his hands and gripped at the shirt stretched across Gibbs' broad back with unsure fingers, trying his best to latch on and hold tight. The pull of the IV line entering and taped to the back of his left hand went all but ignored.
"No...nothing will...be all right...again. Nothing."
The tears came harder now, the grief and pain and disillusionment seeping from the sick young man, his exhausted body beginning to go limp and his hands losing their purchase on the former Marine. Gibbs fought down his rising fear, hating to see this vibrant and lively creature laid so low, knowing the damaged body was overpowering the weakened mind and the combination of those elements could be disastrous if not countered immediately.
There was the soft sound of several people entering the doorway at his back but Gibbs ignored the intrusion and kept his focus. "You listen to me, Tony," he hissed into the closest ear and kept his hold solid and secure on the trembling form, "none of what happened was your fault. Do you hear me? None of it. Victoria and Millie were victims, just like you, but I'm telling you the truth: the people behind all this will be caught and punished. All of them. It *will* be all right...you just have to trust me now. Can you do that? Can you trust me again, Tony?"
When nothing but silence answered him, Gibbs felt his blood begin to run cold. Easing the young man back to the comfort of the pillow once more, he leaned forward and hovered over DiNozzo, willing the green eyes to recognize and accept the truth. He watched the liquid gaze blur as new tears formed.
"I...I don't...know," DiNozzo all but choked, his honesty and confusion like a knife to Gibbs' soul. "You...left me..."
Gibbs lowered his head as the accusation was repeated. He had to make DiNozzo understand, had to let him know the truth of all that had occurred, but knew this wasn't the time. He sighed and leaned back, pulling slightly away from the grieving, confused figure.
"Boss?"
McGee's muted voice caught his attention and Gibbs reluctantly turned his miserable eyes away from the desolate face of the young man in the bed and looked toward the doorway, surprised to see Ducky and Wainwright flanking the nervous-looking agent. They all wore expressions of obvious concern and the agent was immediately on his feet.
"What is it?" He asked, a prickle of dread inching up his spine.
Both Ducky and Wainwright left their places and moved to the bed, focusing on DiNozzo while McGee stepped closer to his leader. "Lieutenant Bradley says he needs to see you ASAP."
"McGee, what's happened?" Gibbs' brusque tone spoke volumes.
The younger man's eyes rounded at the sound but he obeyed. "He says he got word from one of his men out on patrol. He's spotted a group of unknowns approaching from the direction of the reservoir."
Gibbs took one last look at the figure on the bed and turned away, moving swiftly but continuing to speak as he walked. "Ducky, lock this door as soon as we leave and don't let anyone in unless it's one of us. Roberta?"
"Yes, Gibbs?" The woman looked sharply up from her position by the bed, watching as Gibbs paused and fixed her with a hard look.
"You have your weapon?" His blue eyes bored into hers.
The woman's mouth tightened fractionally but her nod was curt. "Yes."
"Don't let anyone take DiNozzo."
The implications were crystal clear. Ducky groaned quietly and dropped his chin to his chest, a hand reaching unconsciously to rest on one of DiNozzo's slim shoulders. The younger man seemed oblivious to the undercurrents swirling about in the room and the aging medical examiner could only think of it as a blessing.
Taking one last look at DiNozzo, Gibbs turned and left the room, determined to meet this new and potentially dangerous threat head on. The look on his face was clear. DiNozzo would *never* fall into the hands of Emilio Martinez again.
TBC
Author's Chapter Notes:
Abby and D reach an understanding but Gibbs and DiNozzo just can't seem to reconnect.