Chapter seventeen

Ziva came by to check on Tony and there was a relieved smile on her lips when Gibbs told her he had been awake for a few minutes.

“Good,” she said. “Good.”

She had the same kind of trouble that Gibbs had with finding the right words.

Gibbs had sent her back to the office to check what Ducky and Palmer had found on the other victim in Doherty’s basement, and if Gillman’s team had come up with anything. Gibbs made a face – Gillman had gotten everything in a neatly wrapped package after Gibbs’ team had done the work and faced the dangers.

But he wouldn’t have changed it. If the day before had been done all over again, he still would have given the case to Gillman so that he could go to the hospital and make sure both his agents survived. There was nothing more important. He had never cared about getting credit and fame – if he had, he would have joined the FBI instead.

Four hours had passed since Tony woke the first time, when he stirred again. Gibbs sat up straighter, leaning forward.

“Tony?” he said.

Tony’s eyes opened slowly and he blinked against the light, pupils slowly adjusting to the brightness. He licked his lips and Gibbs stood, grabbing a chip of ice.

“Want some?” he asked.

Tony slowly focused on Gibbs and when he saw what was being offered, he nodded. It wasn’t the first time Gibbs held an ice chip to Tony’s lips – he’d done the same thing after the plague.

Gibbs wetted Tony’s lips gently, making sure Tony wasn’t going to choke on it before letting it slip into his mouth.

The moisture made it easier for Tony to find his voice. “’anks.”

Gibbs shrugged his response.

Tony closed his eyes and Gibbs wondered if he was about to fall asleep again, already. With the drugs in his system, it wasn’t unlikely – but Tony opened them again, soft gaze on Gibbs.

“Wha’ happ’ned?” he asked.

Gibbs hid a frown. “You don’t remember?”

“R’member talkin’ to—Johnson’s CO,” Tony said. “And there ‘s a dog—and a cell—he drugged me. Ev’ry time I woke up—he drugg’d me more. I dreamed, I think. How long?”

The question at the end didn’t register with Gibbs at first; his mind was running a mile a minute with the realization that Tony didn’t seem to have any memory at all of being a ghost. The things Tony had just described – those were the things his ghost hadn’t been able to remember, at least not without some help.

“Two weeks today,” he answered distractedly.

Tony’s eyebrows rose. “Two weeks? Doesn’t feel ‘ike it.”

“We felt it enough,” Gibbs said.

“Where’re the others?” Tony asked.

“Ziva is at headquarters,” Gibbs said. “Abby’s probably gone back there too. She sends her hugs and will be back as soon as work lets her.”

Tony waited for a beat. “McGee?”

“In a room just down the corridor,” Gibbs said.

Tony’s eyes widened slightly, his shoulders stiffening. “What happ’ned?”

“Doherty – the bastard who kidnapped you – shot him,” Gibbs said and he couldn’t help but let the hatred seep into his voice.

“He okay?” Tony asked, worry obvious.

“He’ll be fine,” Gibbs said. The doctors had assured him of as much. “He’ll be out for a few weeks.”

“Oh,” said Tony. “And me?”

“You’ll stay here for monitoring for a few days,” Gibbs said. “They don’t know what kind of damage the drugs have done to your body yet. So far it looks pretty good. You’re lucky, DiNozzo.”

Tony closed his eyes, breathing in slowly. “It was like a nightmare.”

Gibbs realized that perhaps ‘lucky’ wasn’t the best description for Tony right now. He reached out and grabbed Tony’s hand, squeezing it in reassurance because he couldn’t find the words. He’d never been any good with words.

Tony looked down at their clasped hands. Gibbs couldn’t read his expression – it seemed to be a mixture of longing and sadness, of need and of happiness. It didn’t make much sense, except—

—except if Tony was in love with Gibbs but didn’t think Gibbs knew. Perhaps Tony thought that Gibbs was only here to make sure his Senior Field Agent didn’t kick the bucket, rather than because he cared.

A nurse came into the room, breaking the moment. Tony looked away and with another squeeze, Gibbs let Tony’s hand go. The nurse checked Tony’s vitals, ignoring or not noticing the air of discomfort around the two men.

By nightfall, everyone had gathered in McGee’s room. They wheeled the bed with Tony in it from his room to McGee’s, the equipment coming with him. Both agents were still pale and lacking in their usual energy, but as Tony came into the room, he started joking with McGee.

“Won’t even leave me alone in the hospital, will you, Probie?” he said.

McGee rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s exactly why I’m here.”

Abby grinned at them both, sitting curled against McGee’s side. She’d been bouncing back and forth between Tony’s room and McGee’s room since returning to Bethesda after work.

“Both my boys in the same room,” she said with a smile. “So much easier to keep an eye on you, so you don’t do anything stupid.”

“Like what?” Tony asked innocently.

“Like get kidnapped,” Abby said. “Or shot.”

“Anything to be special,” Tony said, smiling. Gibbs could see the hurt in his eyes even as he said it but stayed silent. They needed their teasing.

Ziva sat on a chair between beds. “You are already more than special enough.”

“Aw, thanks Ziva,” Tony said. “What happened to you, anyway?”

Ziva touched her face self-consciously, where the bruises were still blue. “Nothing.”

Tony gave her a searching look, but didn’t push. Instead he said, “So, did you miss me?”

She gave him a look. “Hardly.”

“She did,” Abby said. “She totally did. We all did. We’ve been so worried. You’re not allowed to get kidnapped ever again, do you hear me?”

Tony chuckled. “I hear you.”

Abby got off the bed and came over to Tony, wrapping him up in a big, tight hug. She whispered something in Tony’s ear that Gibbs didn’t catch and Tony’s eyebrows rose, and then he frowned. Tony said something back, and she kissed his forehead before parting with a few final words. She returned to McGee.

Gibbs hid his frown, wondering what that had all been about. He looked up to find Tony gazing at him, a curious confusion on his face.

Ducky and Palmer entered the room.

“Ah, everyone in one place once more,” said Ducky. “Anthony, we’re all very glad to have you returned safely and soundly, of course.”

“Me too, Ducky,” Tony said.

“And Timothy, you gave us all a scare too,” Ducky said.

McGee looked almost sheepish. “Sorry.”

“We have stuff with us,” Palmer said brightly. “Magazines and movies. And some autopsy results—”

“Mr. Palmer, perhaps now is not the time to discuss work,” Ducky said.

“Oh, no, perhaps not,” Palmer said. “Well, like I said, we have movies and magazines.”

“What movies?” Tony asked, looking like a kid on Christmas. Gibbs wondered if he was the only one who could see past the mask to the aching pain. He doubted it; at least Abby must have noticed it too.

Gibbs pulled Ducky aside when Palmer handed Tony the bag of movies. They left the room for the relative privacy of the corridor.

“Anything on the autopsies?” he asked.

Ducky shook his head. “Not really. I’m sure Abby already told you the results of the tox screen on Mr. Doherty’s victim in the basement – Ketamine and Propofol, about the same levels as Anthony. Other than a few bruises on his arms and torso, possibly given while Doherty was manhandling him to get him into the basement, there was nothing. Cause of death was exanguination due to the gunshot wound to the chest. I estimate he was dead within two minutes of getting shot, which was perhaps twenty minutes before I arrived.”

Gibbs wondered how twenty minutes could feel like forever. It had felt like it when they’d been down in the basement.

“ID?” he asked.

“Abigail matched his prints to a former Lieutenant by the name of Connor Maddox,” Ducky said. “He’s been missing for nearly three months.”

Gibbs wondered how they’d missed that. Ducky offered no explanation. They’d have to look into it later.

“What about Doherty?” Gibbs asked.

“Your shots killed him,” Ducky said. “I found a tumor in his brain, possibly the cause of some of his actions – not all of it and it is certainly no excuse, but it might offer some explanation. He wouldn’t have had more than a few months to live without treatment. He must have suffered headaches.”

“Don’t care,” Gibbs said. He hoped the bastard had suffered. He hoped he was still suffering.

“I know that, Jethro,” Ducky said. “I’m simply relaying the facts.”

“Yeah,” Gibbs said. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Ducky said. “Now, let’s go back – we’ve waited long enough to see everyone back together. We deserve a night off from work.”

Gibbs sighed and nodded before following Ducky back inside. Ducky was right; they did deserve some time together, to be happy and relieved that they were all still alive.

He watched Tony as inconspicuously as he could. As they smiled and laughed, teasing each other as they always had, Gibbs found himself with a smile on his lips as well. He sent thanks to the powers that be, the ones he usually didn’t believe in, glad that they were allowed to be together again. His family.

He looked up, finding Abby watching him. She wore a secretive smile, the one that suggested she knew something Gibbs didn’t – but then it was gone. He stored it away in his mind, but for now he decided just to enjoy the moment.

Tony discussed some movie with Palmer, Abby offering up comments here and there. Ziva looked content to sit back and relax, only adding her opinion on occasion but smiling throughout. Ducky spoke to McGee about how he was feeling. Gibbs felt whole, in a way he hadn’t in the last two weeks – his family was safe. The madman had been caught, they had found Tony and he’d live, and McGee would be all right in a couple of weeks. He hadn’t failed the way he’d feared; he hadn’t lost Tony.

When McGee began nodding off and Tony started looking tired, Ducky ushered the visitors out of the room. Tony was returned to his room, because McGee’s room wasn’t really made for two, and Ziva, Ducky and Palmer left. Abby stayed with McGee, and Gibbs followed Tony.

“Don’t have to babysit me, boss,” Tony said.

“Really think I do,” Gibbs said. “Not letting you out of my sight.”

Tony’s eyes were half-shut, but he smiled. “How’re you going to do that when we’re out on cases?”

Gibbs glared at him.

The smile was soft and sleepy. “Not that I’d mind.”

Gibbs took Tony’s hand and squeezed it. “I know.”

Tony’s eyes opened to look at him. There was something guarded, but curious, in his gaze. “Boss?”

“What did Abby say to you?” Gibbs asked.

Color tinted Tony’s cheeks. “Nothing.”

Gibbs gave him a look.

Tony studied his hands, brushing them over the cover to straighten it. “Look, it was nothing. It was just—Abby being weird. It was nothing.”

“So you keep saying,” Gibbs said. “Did she say anything about your ghost visiting us in the last week?”

Tony’s eyes rose, and with a frown, he muttered, “You’re both crazy.”

“I thought so too,” Gibbs said, smiling slightly with a shake of his head. He could still remember hid disbelief and now that the spirit was gone, back where it belonged, he could wonder if it had happened at all.

“She said spirit,” Tony said. “I don’t know what you’ve been sipping, but—” He trailed off. “Didn’t think you believed in that kind of stuff, boss.”

“I didn’t,” Gibbs said. “But you convinced me.”

Tony looked up, eyes wide. “You’re—it’s crazy, Gibbs.”

“Trust me, I know,” Gibbs said. “Took some convincing for me to believe you. But I did. You told me about Abby’s voodoo dolls and about Ziva’s tattoo. And then when Ziva was hurt, you helped clear the place – and you made Doherty let you—your body go.”

It felt insane to say it, to ask someone else to believe in something that had taken so much out of Gibbs to believe in. It felt even odder that Tony’s ghost had fought to convince Gibbs and now Gibbs was trying to convince Tony. But the things had happened, there was no denying that. It hadn’t just been Gibbs’ imagination. His heart raced at the memories, at what they’d been through. The terror when Tony first disappeared, the fear when Ziva was hurt, the pain when he thought he’d already lost Tony, that his ghost was proof of Tony’s death.

He remembered how Tony’s last words tore at his heart; how he believed they’d never get a chance at happiness after all.

Tony’s eyes were full of disbelief. “Boss, I—”

Gibbs leaned closer to Tony, and Tony looked at him, pain, concern, love, trust all mixing into one swirling, hypnotizing gaze. Without a word, Gibbs placed a gentle hand on the side of Tony’s face and angled it toward his own. Then he pressed his lips against Tony’s.

He could feel Tony’s shock, Tony’s lips warm but still beneath his own. They were still dry and slightly cracked, but they felt warm and good and real against Gibbs’, not just the tingle of sensations he’d felt when he kissed Tony’s spirit.

Tony melted beneath him and suddenly, he kissed back, as the shock released its hold and he breathed into the kiss. Hesitantly, Tony’s tongue ran over Gibbs’ bottom lip, silently asking permission.

Gibbs lost himself in the sensations of the kiss, his other hand coming up to cup Tony’s face as well, and running down his neck and shoulders making sure that Tony was there, was real, was warm and alive.

They pulled apart, panting, and Tony’s hands fisted weakly in Gibbs’ shirt, holding him in position so that he couldn’t leave.

“I kissed you,” Tony said. “When I was a ghost—I remember. I remember fading in and out—and I remember Ziva—and Abby, she could feel me—and the basement.”

He choked and Gibbs found tears in Tony’s eyes when he looked up. Gibbs pulled Tony close, wrapping him against himself, holding him tight.

“I thought I was dead,” Tony said, his voice rough with tears. “I thought I’d—I thought I’d never get to tell you—and—”

“Shh,” Gibbs said, running a hand up and down Tony’s back. “It’ll be okay. Shh.”

Tony shook against him, body wracking with quiet sobs. Gibbs could only sit there, holding him, being the lifeline Tony needed, whispering quiet nothings in Tony’s ear. There was nothing he could say to make it better; Tony would have to get through the pain of the trauma and the fear of being dead on his own. Gibbs could only offer support, no matter how much he wished he could share the pain. No words would help, not right now, but Gibbs hoped his presence was comforting at least.

They sat there in the quiet hospital room and Gibbs held Tony until his sobs became shuddering breaths. Then finally, he relaxed and fell asleep in Gibbs’ arms.

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