The mid-afternoon sun hung ominously in the pale blue sky like a fiery ball of white-hot lava, it's rays melting unmercifully down upon the desert landscape in thick, syrupy bands of stifling heat, searching for any bit of hidden moisture, and immediately leeching it out and stealing it away, leaving a dry, parched husk of lifeless, barren land in its wake. It was an invisible thief, an unseen bandit, robbing silently in it's single-minded and unrelenting pursuit. Quiet, cruel and, for any unprepared or unsuspecting lifeform, extremely deadly.
The air, itself, was hot and oppressive, like trying to breathe inside a working convection oven, the heat intensive and continual and seeming to bombard from each and every side. The act of inhaling coated the lips, the tongue, the palate with a layer of imperceptible dryness that snuck slyly into the throat and wormed covertly into the chest, making simple respiration a wearisome, tiresome, over- rated chore. It wasn't a good idea to be out in the midday sun: not wise nor healthy nor advised and only a damn fool would be out in it willingly...or one adhering to the strict dictates of a direct assigned order.
Drifting away from his designated area close to the front door of the Double D Lodge, Tobias Fornell paced anxiously over to the closest window and peered out into the blistering afternoon heat. He knew Mother Nature was at her savage best today, cranking up the heat index, and fleetingly wondered about the two Marine snipers high on the roofs outside, protecting everyone inside from any potential danger. They had to have been sweltering by now, uniforms plastered to their skin, eyes aching from the strain of watching the surrounding area for any sign of trouble.
'If they haven't fried their brains by now," he winced in silent sympathy and squinted into the pale, washed-out sky above, watching a couple of scavenging birds make lazy, looping arcs high in the distant overhead, 'they sure as hell will before this day is out.'
Regardless of what the conditions were outside, it was more than comfortable within the lodge, the central air conditioning unit working silently and efficiently at keeping the interior pleasantly cool...but there was a chill in the FBI agent's soul that had absolutely nothing to do with the ambient, artificial atmosphere. Fornell shivered and swallowed thickly against the sudden sensation, instantly recognizing the taste of fear upon his tongue: bitter, sour, and completely unwanted.
Turning abruptly away from the window and the scene outside and trying to get a handle on his wayward emotions, Fornell's eyes tracked unconsciously upward, in the direction of the second floor bedrooms, knowing what was taking place on the other side of one, particular closed doorway. He sighed deeply and tried to release his pent-up anxiety. The root cause was right there, in that horrendous room, surrounded by mobile banks of medical equipment and monitors and was now facing an even more uncertain future. With all the brainpower and resources available to them, with the full backing of two extremely powerful governmental agencies, and with everyone doing everything in their power to come up with an answer, DiNozzo was still slowly slipping away from them, one small breath at a time. He wasn't getting any better, he wasn't responding to any of the fluids or injections or supplemental concoctions administered by the doctors, nor was he able to remember anything useful about his time spent with Emilio Martinez, the 'cure' for his contnuing failing health seemingky elusive as that hideous, little Brazilian himself.
During the last communication he'd had with his section director at the FBI, Fornell had been told the hunt was still on for Martinez and, now, much of the investigation was centering around Franklin Wilson-Halley, the reclusive billionaire he and Gibbs had visited in Idaho weeks ago, the day they'd finally found DiNozzo. The report was grim and brief and did absolutely nothing to assure Fornell they were getting any closer to finding anything valuable, especially not the magic remedy for DiNozzo's mysterious illness everyone here was hoping existed somewhere out there.
All Fornell knew was DiNozzo was dying, little by little, and there wasn't a damn fucking thing anyone seemed to be able to do to stop it...not even Jethro Gibbs. That hardheaded, former Marine was still up in that room, enscounced in that bed, holding onto the frail, young man like he could just keep death away by placing himself, like some human shield, between his failing agent and the approaching end. Shaking his head at the thought and fighting back the sting suddenly rising at the back of his throat, Fornell forced the vision of the two males on the bed from his jealous mind and turned to look back out the front window.
'I should be the one up there right now,' his traitorous mind whispered in a terrible rush of envy, the thoughts slithering like a hissing viper, spitting venom, as he leaned a shoulder heavily against the edge of the sturdy window frame. 'I'm the one who brought Tony this far...not Gibbs...and I should be the one with him. Gibbs doesn't deserve to be there...doesn't deserve to hold him and touch him and...'
Raised voices from the direction of the trophy room quickly broke through his irritated and ugly musings and he focused on the rough, individual tones he could hear, easily recognizing the people involved. Ducky, Wainwright, McGee, and Abby were herded together, in the downstairs trophy room, trying to determine the exact purpose of the tiny RFIDs so recently removed from DiNozzo's body, beyond the obvious use as tracking devices, and now seemed to have reached an uneasy...and very loud...stalemate.
"But you don't know for sure that's even what was keeping him alive!" Ducky's usually calm, cultured voice was sharp and hard and laced with a heavy dose of impatience, and Fornell couldn't resist the urge to step toward the entryway to take a closer look.
As he neared the angular archway that opened into a huge, rustic sitting room, Fornell's eyes immediately focused on the duo hovering around the young forensics expert, watching carefully as she peered down into her microscope, almost as if she was trying to make herself smaller. Ducky was just to Abby's left, with Wainwright on her other side, and the two doctors were exchanging tight, frustrated looks, their bodies stiff and unyeilding. Neither one seemed to be paying the younger woman any notice and Fornell watched as she hunched forward in an almost cowering position, her slim shoulders quaking slightly under the purple T-shirt she wore. The FBI agent frowned and flashed a swift look toward McGee, finding him in his usual spot behind a computer keyboard and monitor, and saw the fatigue and worry and anxiety clearly evident his soulful, red-rimmed eyes. He looked as though he was on the brink of tears and, when he caught Fornell's gaze, there was a silent plea for help.
This was not good. He had to do something.
"What's going on in here?" He asked harshly and stepped forward, staying near the entry and his assigned post but wanting to break up this seemingly unproductive confrontation. "Would somebody mind filling me in?"
Both Ducky and Wainwright whirrled at the sound of his voice and began speaking at the same time, their words jumbling and overlapping and obliterating anything remotely coherent, and Fornell could only gape at the surreal scene as it unfolded. Both doctors were scowling openly and were red-faced and loud and adamant, neither inclined to let the other speak. It was almost like watching two spoiled, bickering children battling for a parent's attention, wanting to be first, to be heard before the other, to make their case known before the other even got the opportunity to utter a single, solitary word. It was horrifyingly bizarre and almost too unbelievable to attempt interruption and Fornell could only stare, his mouth gaping slightly open, and observe the squabbling duo as they continued to jabber away. What he *was* able to make out made absolutely no sense at all.
"The protien markers indicate..." "...there's just no assurance what they..." "...could be the reason he's not..." "...we just don't know what's..." "...and if we do, what will that..." "...ultimately, we have to..." "...can't be seriously expecting..."
"What in the *hell* is going on in here?!" A deep, booming voice cut straight through the chatter and immediately brought everything to an abrupt standstill. All eyes turned in the direction of the newest speaker, quickly taking in the shotgun cradled in the powerful arms and the deep scowl marring the weather-beaten face. "I can hear you two squabbling all the way upstairs!" He fumed and shook his head in open frustration. "Do you want that boy up there in that bed to hear what you're saying? Or better yet, do you want LJ to hear it? Do you seriously want *him* down here to settle this petty, little debate? I don't know about you but I just don't think he'd take too kindly to being forced away from that room right now."
Daniel Dunn stood stiffly tall, eyeing all those within his trophy room, especially the two doctors, but his gaze softened just a bit when it lit of Abby's grateful, relieved face. He could see where the crux of the problem rested and his assumption was only strengthened when both Ducky and Wainwright took a step toward him and began to speak again...together. D raised one hand, eyes blazing with anger, and held them at bay.
"I don't give a rat's ass fuck what the problem is between you two," he hissed with open contempt, "but *I* do care that you're doing nothing but wasting valuable time, yapping at each other like a pair of rabid coyotes, while that kid is up there is dying. Don't you think there's something better you could be doing?"
Fornell was only now aware of Officer David's presence, just to the periphery of the entryway, her dark eyes wide with shock and concern. She, too, had been lured away from her post by the sound of the angry, raised voices and, now, there was no one watching the entrances of the lodge. This was not good. The FBI agent was immediately turning away from the scene and swiftly moving to his position near the front door, cursing at his lapse, and perfectly satisfied to leave the two quarrelling doctors in D's capable hands. He glanced back once and saw David also turning away and moving again toward her post, shaking her head in confusion and mumbling something unrecognizable under her breath. It was plain to see she was just as mystified by the confrontation but still had enough sense to know where her duty lay.
Sidling back up to the window once again and looking out into the afternoon glare, with a renewed determination to keep his mind focused on the job at hand, Fornell was instantly alert when he could just make out what appeared to be a small grouping of people approaching slowly from from the east. Well in the distance and too far away to be sure without the aid of binoculars, the FBI agent wasn't prepared to take any chances.
"We've got movement outside!" He yelled back over his shoulder, eyes remaining locked on the wavering images in the distance. "McGee! See if you can contact Bradley and find out if it's them!"
D was suddenly at his side, peering out into the brightness, his sharp eyes squinting as he tried to determine if the approaching figures were friend or foe. "How many can you count?"
Fornell strained to see the ghost-like forms more clearly, watching them waver eerily in the heat, wanting to be accurate when he made his response. They almost appeared as though they consisted of some shimmering liquid, arms and head and body undulating strangely as the heat rose off the hot, reflective ground around them and formed an almost invisible barrier of rippling energy. He'd seen this many times in the past, riding his Harley along a stretch of straight highway, watching the road ahead seemingly bend and shimmer in the heat. Optical illusion. No, atmospheric illusion. Hell, som kind of damn illusiont. Right now, the only thing he wanted was to be sure of who they were seeing, illusion or not.
"Looks like..." he hesitated for a moment as the distant figures merged and seperated, "twelve. I think I can see twelve."
"That's what I got," D confirmed just as McGee stepped out of the trophy room.
"It's them," the young agent reported with an air of obvious relief, moving to stand shoulder to shoulder with the two men at the window so he, too, could look out. "Captain Bradley says they've got the intruders and the CDC doctor with them and will keep them in the Marine mess tent until it's decided what to do with them. He wants Gibbs to come out, take a look at them, ask his questions."
D grunted and spoke casually, eyes still trained on the distant, approaching group. "Someone will need to sit with the kid while he has his little chat..."
"I'll do it," Fornell rushed to volunteer, turning away to move toward the staircase. A hard grip on one bicep brought him up short and he looked quickly at the restraining hand before raising irritated eyes to D's face. "What?"
"I'm thinking that may not be a very good idea," D's voice was quiet and tight.
Fornell frowned and hissed in annoyance. "And why the hell not?"
D casually shrugged one shoulder and released his grip on the FBI agent, keen eyes narrowing on the other man's expression and adjusting the weight of his shotgun across one arm, cradling it in the bend of an elbow. "Just a feeling. I notice he tends to get real pissy whenever you get around Agent DiNozzo. Real pissy."
Fornell's frown turned into an open scowl. He shook his head, letting his angry eyes flick over to where McGee still stood, and saw the agreement reflected in the younger man's face. He sighed and took a step back, wondering if they all knew about his true feelings for DiNozzo now. He didn't seriously think Gibbs would be the type to spread the news but there'd been others present when he and the NCIS agent had, literally, all but come to blows over their 'position' in DiNozzo's life. If that was the case, there was no need to hide anything. He released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in and forced himself to relax.
"Look," he spoke to both D and McGee, eyes flicking back and forth between them, "I'm not going to do anything but give Gibbs the news and offer to sit with DiNozzo. If he wants someone else to watch over him, then I'll just come back down and get one of you."
"No need for that," D calmly said and stepped forward. "Agent McGee here has things to do, so I'll just come with you now. I'm suppose to be guarding the door anyway."
Fornell grit his teeth at the logic and shot the former Marine a hard glare. "Fine. Do whatever you want."
He whirled and started up the stairs, hearing D mumble something to McGee before following, the other man's footsteps light and sure as he brought up the rear. Fornell didn't want to think of possibly having another confrontation with Gibbs, especially like the one they'd already had, but, hell, everyone here was working for DiNozzo's benefit, including him. He'd helped remove and protect the young agent from harm's way many times over the course of the weeks and had personally cared for the ill man when no one else would or could. He'd seen DiNozzo at his worse: weak and tearful and racked with pain. But he'd also seen him at his best: playful and coy and wickedly funny.
Fornell banished the memory of David's sour, pinched face and remembered only what he wanted of the days before Gibbs' arrival: holding DiNozzo within the safety of his arms when the pains took all but his breath away, wiping the sweat and the tears and the urine away with a gentle, caring hand, leaning close and whispering soft words of encouragement when it appeared there was no hope of survival, and doing everything in his power to keep the younger man alive, one hard day at a time.
But above all else, Fornell remembered the sound of DiNozzo saying his name, calling out softly, wanting, needing the FBI agent close and within reach. Listening to the mumbled appreciation, brushing his lips across DiNozzo's dry, trembling mouth, urging more sounds, more responses, more connection. DiNozzo had wanted him then and, until Gibbs had stepped back into the picture, had still continued to reach out to him. Fornell believed, without a doubt, if anyone had the right to be with DiNozzo right now, it had to be him.
They approached the solid door and D knocked softly, rapping his scarred knuckles against the sturdy wood. "LJ? It's me...D. Need to speak to you a minute."
There was silence from the other side of the panel and, just as D was preparing to knock again, there was a soft sound of movement, distant and muted. The two men waited patiently as more barely perceptible noises drifted their way from the other side of the closed and locked doorway: a soft voice, the squeak of a floorboard, the turning of the lock. When the door itself opened just a hand's width, both Fornell and D could only stare silently into Gibbs' bleak, desolate eyes, his grim face immediately robbing them of their intended words.
Gibb' tired eyes tracked between the two quiet men, opening the door a bit wider after glancing quickly back toward the bed to make sure there was no disturbance, and finally spoke, his voice rough and low. "What?"
"Bradley and his unit are coming back in with the intruders," Fornell offered swiftly, watching as Gibbs absorbed the news but also trying to see into the dimly-lit room. "They also have the CDC doctor and they plan to hold all of them over in the mess tent until you come out and talk to them."
Gibbs' shoulders visibly drooped at the news and he sighed, briskly rubbing a hand through his short hair. "Why are they still holding the CDC doctor? Couldn't they clear him?"
Fornell exchanged a wary look with D and he could see the Texan's concern. D reached out slowly and laid a hand on one of Gibbs' shoulders, squeezing tight. The strain of the situation was obvious in the dulled, blue eyes which stared back at him.
"LJ," he began softly, "I think Bradley needs your input. The two intruders won't be any concern right now...though I think we'd all like to hear their story, up close and personal, if you get my drift...but the CDC doc was sent by the SecNav, right? Bradley probably has orders to let you make the call about letting him see your agent."
"He's right, Gibbs," Fornell spoke again, watching the hard eyes shift in his direction again. "No one is going to make a move toward DiNozzo without your go-ahead."
"That include you, Tobias?" The voice was immediately cold and steely and D instinctively tightened his grip on his friend's shoulder as something primitive and feral flashed in the blue depths of Gibbs' eyes. This possessive streak was strange to see and sent a flare of alarm through D's head.
"LJ," he spoke again before Fornell could respond and took a step nearer, frowning at Gibbs and placing his body slightly at an angle between the two feuding men, "there's no time for this now. Your two docs have been battling it out down in the trophy room, trying to come up with some compromise about those tags, McGee and David are guarding the entries, and poor Abby...well, she's trying just to keep everything from flying apart. They need *you* right now, LJ...and that CDC doc just might be able to get Ducky and Wainwright to decide what needs to be done."
Gibbs looked torn, his eyes tracking back toward the bed, his expression confusing D even more. "Tony..."
"Tony will be fine while you're gone," D soothed and pushed gently, forcing Gibbs to take a few steps back. Both he and Fornell could now see into the bedroom. "We'll both sit with him until you get back. Won't we, Tobias?"
The offer startled Fornell and he quickly looked toward the Texan, wanting to protest the arrangement, already planning to rebuke the idea DiNozzo needed both of them, but was silenced by Gibbs' angry, hissing voice. "I don't want him anywhere near Tony!"
D shook his head in exasperation but continued nonetheless, his tone a bit more firm. "What the hell is wrong with you? You don't have any other choice. You don't want Fornell here but *I* can't do it by myself and you'd realize it if you were thinking straight." He sighed and shook his head in irritation. "Your agent doesn't know me from squat, LJ, and if he starts getting antsy and finds a stranger keeping vigil, he may get a tad more upset than he should. Let Fornell sit with him," he quickly stopped Gibbs from speaking by rushing on with his thought, trying to maintain his cool, "and I'll sit with Fornell. I'll stay close and watch everything, make sure he's being taken care of just the way you'd want. I won't let anything happen to him, LJ. You *know* I won't."
Gibbs was quiet, pensive, rolling the idea around in his head, eyes searching D's face and seeing the truth reflected there. But, God, he didn't want to do this, that much was evident, his duty to the job and his team and the group of Marines outside all tugging against his instinct to stay here. The others were depending on him to lead, first and foremost, and if DiNozzo was going to survive this horrible ordeal, it would be through the combined efforts of everyone involved. Everyone.
Reluctantly, he nodded his agreement and stepped further back, enough so both men could enter the bedroom completely. Their eyes went immediately toward the still figure on the lone bed, seeing the weak, green gaze directed back their way, and had to force the shock from their expressions.
If it hadn't been clear before, it certainly was now: DiNozzo was dying.
Gibbs turned away from them and hurried back to the bedside, dropping to one knee and reaching to take one limp hand gently into his, holding firmly and warming the cold fingers within his tender grasp. DiNozzo's eyes seemed huge in his gaunt, pale face, their color dull and dim and so full of raw pain it was almost too much to look upon.
Fornell and D stepped closer but remained a respectful distance away, watching and listening as Gibbs began to speak to his stricken agent. There was a tenderness to his tone that neither man had ever heard and, where D was just beginning to understand the depth of his friend's emotions for his young agent, Fornell was seething with barely surpressed rage.
"Tony, I've got to go downstairs for a little while," he offered a small smile to bolster the younger man's disappointment, quickly reaching to snag a nearby washcloth and dabbing away the accumulated sweat from DiNozzo's brow and cheeks. He was extremely careful to avoid the thin tubing snaking across the pale face and looping behind both ears, bringing much-needed oxygen to the young man. "Tobias is going to sit with you..."
The limp hand in his grip suddenly tightened and the green eyes widened further, pulling Gibbs' attention away from the scattered dots of perspiration and quickly to his lover's obvious distress. He slid up onto the mattress and sat close, hip to hip, arms braced to either side of DiNozzo's head, and looked straight down into his dying agent's face. The dimming eyes never left his and it was all Gibbs could do not to press his mouth to the younger lips, to breathe some of his own energy and vitality into the falling body. Hell, Gibbs knew he would willingly give it all to him if it was humanly possible.
"What?" He asked gently, watching DiNozzo struggle to speak.
DiNozzo was working hard to get his vocal cords to function as his brain was demanding but nothing was emerging like he wanted. He was tired...so damn tired...and the internal struggling was threatening to throw his body into another unwanted fit of rebellion.
He panted quietly, eyelids fluttering, and rode out a stab of renewed pain, feeling it grow and climb slowly from the base of his spine and claw its way upward over each individual bone, sharp teeth sinking into the nerves and ligaments until it reached his neck and shoulders. From there, it bit hard again, worrying at the base of his skull, radiating outward and diving downward into his throat and chest, sucking away his ability to breathe.
'Oh...this is going to be a bad one,' he realized dimly.
He tried to stay focused on Gibbs' face, hovering so close, but the invisible spikes were sneaking lower again, jabbing at his stomach, spearing at his intestines, and stealing away his thoughts. He could only grunt when the sensations overwhelmed his desperate, feeble control and sent him reeling back into that dark, lonely place in his mind, filled with flashing memories of a terrible, little man, of being hurt and alone, and of realizing he wasn't going to be able to survive another day.
"Tony!" Gibbs all but shouted as he recognized what was happening, unable to help but needing to let the young man know he was still here. He eased down, forearms to either side on the pillow, and he gently took DiNozzo's head into his hands, cradling with utmost care, keeping his eyes focused on the face now twisted in some unspoken agony. Even the sound of the pain-filled grunting was lessening, turning instead into small, barely-perceptible rumblings. He'd witnessed these bouts before, had seen how drained they ultimately left his lover, but this one...this one seemed exceptionally bad, almost to the point where it looked like he wouldn't be able to survive it. Frightened by the prospect, Gibbs quickly glanced over a shoulder and yelled toward the two, silent spectators. "Go get Ducky! For God's sake, hurry!"
Gibbs could hear the sound of someone leaving but he didn't dare look away from DiNozzo again. Not now. The green eyes had slit open and were trying to focus on his face, the depth of desolate agony reflected all too clearly...and of a desire to just let go.
"I'm here, Tony," Gibbs whispered and pressed the side of his face to one of DiNozzo's alarmingly cold cheeks, lips just inches away from the shell of one delicate ear. Gibbs knew he was shaking but he just couldn't control the tremors, his own body reacting to the shock and the stress. He could feel soft, quick puffs of air across his exposed neck as DiNozzo struggled to breathe, the erratic, stuttering inhalations and exhalations doing nothing to provide the oxygen his depleted body was so desperately needing. "I'm here."
Gibbs pulled back just enough to look at DiNozzo, wanting, needing to memorize every detail of the beloved face, feeling the frail, young body beneath his hands begin to shiver. He pulled at the spare blanket nestled near the foot of the bed and drew it swiftly upwards, tucking securely, pressing the warmth over the chilled body, and willing the trembling to subside.
DiNozzo's gaze was unwavering, not even blinking, eyes locked on the man hovering so close. Here was his salvation, his light, his life. He knew he could no longer speak, so he settled for letting his eyes transmit his silenced emotions, inordinately grateful for what they'd been given, even in its brevity. It had been good and real and better than the young man had ever imagined he'd have, or deserve, in his strange, short life. And they had laughed...oh, God, how they had laughed...
Gibbs could see the light of life dimming now in DiNozzo's eyes and cried out his denial, pulling the young man quickly up into his desperate embrace and holding tight, rocking and soothing the limp body, all but ignoring the alarmed sounds coming from the direction of the doorway.
"No, no, no...Tony, please..." the words ached and burned within Gibbs' chest, threatening to steal his own ability to breathe. If he had to beg, he was willing. "Don't do this...please, not now...stay...stay with me..."
There were hands pulling Gibbs now, grabbing at his arms and back and trying to seperate him from DiNozzo. Gibbs fought them all, holding tight, and continued to rock the still form within his secure embrace. He ignored the confusing, jumbled words battering around his shoulders and head. He had to hold on...he couldn't let go...not now...not ever...
There was a sharp prick somewhere on his arm and a dull burn of spreading medication, rousing Gibbs momentarily from his single-minded concentration, but he resolutely pushed that feeling away and retightened his grip on DiNozzo's unmoving body. This is where he needed to be. Here. Nowhere but here.
Ducky and Wainwright watched anxiously as the powerful sedative finally began to take effect and, when Gibbs seemed relaxed enough, they quickly had D and Fornell remove the older agent from the bed, pulling DiNozzo's slack form away and lowering it back to the mattress. They could hear the two men moving Gibbs to the other side of the room and knew they would see to his care but, right now, they worked frantically around the unresponsive figure and thought only of his condition. As Ducky bent to begin CPR, Wainwright began rattling around with the equipment.
"Oh, Roberta," Ducky whispered mournfully, face bleak as he focused on the open, unseeing eyes and the quiet, slack mouth of the young agent. "Hurry..."
Wainwright shouldered the ME out of her way and took up position with the portable defibrillator, preping the machine, vaguely aware Ducky had already pulled the covers away and exposed the motionless chest. Her expression was grim but determined.
"You aren't getting away from us now, young man. Clear!"
Over by the doorway, Fornell and D lifted Gibbs' slack body and manhandled him onto the armchair by the wall, arranging him in what they thought was the most comfortable position and tilting his head back so it listed to one side. It was the best they could do for him, without removing him completely from the room, but neither actually gave voice to that option. It seemed bad enough just to have several, measly yards separating Gibbs from DiNozzo at this point and neither man wanted to face the demon if the older agent awoke, somewhere completely removed from his subordinate's general vicinity.
Fornell started to take another step back toward the bed, the need to be closer to the young man pulling hard again but, once more, D stopped him. "Wait, Fornell...they don't need you under their feet. Give them a little room to work."
Fornell eyed the other man suspiciously for a brief moment, wanting to get to DiNozzo, but relented when he recognized the truth. He nodded his reluctant assent.
Just as he turned to look back toward the bed, DiNozzo's body arched up against the first shock of the defibrillator, the sight staggering Fornell back. Fornell grimaced at the thought of that vibrant, young form reduced to this and could only stare at the monitor to one side of the bed. He saw Ducky frown and shake his head and Wainwright was immediately charging the machine again.
'Come on, Tony! Come on!' He chanted in silent desperation.
Ducky was again at DiNozzo's side, knees on bed, his deft, accurate hands applying just the right amount of pressure on the center of the still chest but it was obvious he couldn't do everything he needed. Fornell immediately broke away from his position next to D and moved to the other side of the bed, tipping DiNozzo's head back at the correct angle, and sealing his mouth over the cold, unresponsive lips. Pinching the nose closed, he exhaled deeply into the empty lungs, watching the chest expand. He and Ducky worked in tandem, aware of each other's movements, and stayed focused on the young man under their combined hands.
This close, Fornell could see DiNozzo's eyes were still partially open, the blank, dull gaze chilling his soul and bringing a surge of determination. 'You are not going to leave me now! Do you hear me, Tony? You are not going to leave!'
"Clear!" Wainwright barked again and Ducky and Fornell jerked away, watching as the woman applied the paddles, sending another strong jolt into DiNozzo's body. All eyes shifted immediately toward the monitor and, when a small blip appeared...followed closely by another and then another...there was visible relief reflected on every face in the room.
"Oh, my dear, dear Roberta," Ducky's voice was thick with emotion as he quickly returned the dislodged oxygen cannula back in its appropriate place across DiNozzo's face, "that was well done!"
Both doctors fiddled with a few more monitors and then were reaching for their stethoscopes, almost in unison, concentrating on the weak but stabilizing sound from within the young man's chest. Wainwright's gaze was fixed on some undetermined spot while Ducky merely closed his eyes, both absorbed in the simple joy of listening to a beating heart.
Fornell remained close, barely resisting the urge to touch DiNozzo's pale face again. He held himself back and stared at the relaxed lips, remembering the desperation he'd felt, forcing his breath past the slack mouth, and wanted nothing more than to place his fingertips back over that sweet, tender spot of their union. He'd done this for Tony, he'd been the one to bring him back from the brink, and Gibbs...Gibbs had been asleep through it all. Fornell's bitter eyes tracked over to the corner of the room and settled on the agent, sneering at the way things had turned out.
'I'm the one he always needs the most,' he gloated mutely to the slumbering man. '*Me*...not you.'
"Fornell."
D was suddenly standing close, his body blocking Fornell's view of Gibbs, and his glare dampening the FBI agent's barely concealed glee. Fornell focused on the weather-beaten face and held himself in check.
"What?" He managed to sound in control, nodding once to Ducky as he forced himself to move away from DiNozzo's side, stepping deliberately back toward the doorway. He knew D was right behind him.
"I think you should go out and see about the CDC doc."
D's words brought him up short and he slowly turned to face the Texan, his suspicion ratcheting up a notch. "Now, why should I do that?"
D scowled and rubbed a hand across his bare head. "Oh, hell's bells, Fornell! Gibbs certainly can't do it and I don't think any of his team can be pulled away from what they're doing now, except maybe that...eh, Officer David." He shook his head and glanced down at the floor. "You'll be able to tell if this guy is the real deal and get him in here so he can help with Agent DiNozzo. You saw how these two," he jerked his head back toward Ducky and Wainwright, "were spitting at each other earlier. They need another voice, someone who can look at the situation from a different perspective."
"I hate to tell you this," Fornell smirked but was secretly happy with his new role, "but that CDC doctor probably won't be much help. He's all about infectious diseases and biohazards and such. I don't think he knows anything about what's happening to DiNozzo."
"But you don't know for sure," D stressed and then shrugged. "Besides, what could it hurt?"
Fornell let the idea tumble around in his head for only a few moments before coming to his decision. "You're right. I'll take Ziva with me...and McGee. They both have certain skills that may prove to be useful."
He turned to address Ducky but saw both he and Wainwright were still bent over DiNozzo's form, checking vitals and quietly discussing their findings. Now wasn't the time to disturb them. They had a job to do, as did he. He let his eyes fall to the young man in the bed and allowed a few moments to silently watch as the chest under the lightweight sheet rose and fell, rose and fell. It had been close...too close...but DiNozzo was still here.
'And I'm still here, too, Tony,' he sent silently across the room to the still figure.
Allowing a small, swift smile, Fornell turned away and started out of the room, pausing only once to shake his head and cast a sneer toward Jethro Gibbs' sprawled form. He looked back at D and pointed to the NCIS agent.
"Better see to your friend, D. I can do the rest all by myself."
TBC
Author's Chapter Notes:
The situation in the Lodge goes from bad to worse.