Chapter 6

*************************************8

Ziva had stared out the back windshield for as long as she could. There had been people everywhere, stowing suitcases in trunks, buckling children in child seats, and embracing one another goodbye. What could be so nefarious that all the women and children had to leave the estate? That was the question she pondered the entire ride.

She would figure it out, but by the time she did, it would be too late.

*************************************8

"I want him out of there, Fornell." Gibbs said. "Now!"

It was a wasted request because Fornell was already placing the call. He set into motion a rescue mission that was pre-planned and ready to go; he just had to give the order. Unfortunately, they would soon realize just how futile the order was.

*************************************8

Tony stood next to Michel and watched as Ahmed Abu-Wahib stepped out of the black limousine. He was followed by several body guards. The balance of his party stayed behind in armor coated vehicles with dark tinted windows. Tony figured there were about 25 heavily armed terrorists, and between them and the small army that DiCarlo maintained, there could be a small war on the estate if someone drew a weapon un-expectantly. Remembering his mythologies, he whispered to Michel, "While King Arthur and Mordred discuss peace terms, I hope as Hell no one sees an adder."

Michel chuckled. "Nice," he said, appreciating the literary prowess of his friend. "If they do, I want you on my side." With that, the family broke off to meet with Abu-Wahib behind closed doors. That was Tony's cue to leave. As he made his way back to his room, he took note of everyone and everything. The guards were armed to the hilt, and reinforcements had been brought in. The smell of death seemed to permeate the grounds, or was that his imagination.

Gibbs asked, "How long?"

"Before we pick up DiNotzo?" Fornell glanced at his watch, "Maybe fifteen minutes. Don't worry; he's in good hands. We'll have him out of there in no time, and in the process we'll have eliminated a terrorist cell and a Mafia Don as a bonus."

Gibbs' gut clenched and his eyes narrowed. Something wasn't right. For starters, Kort was unusually silent. Fornell noticed it too and as they both stared at their CIA counterpart, Fornell eventually said, "You don't have anything to say about putting an end to your terrorist organization?"

Kort exhaled slowly and said, "I'll believe it when they've been eliminated."

"We aren't planning to eliminate them," Sacks said from behind. "You have enough on Ahmed Abu-Wahib to shut him and his cell down forever, and we have enough on the DiCarlo Family to shut them down. It's a win-win for everybody."

"It's not a win-win until my agent is out of there safely," Gibbs said, feeling uneasy.

"Well, of course we'll get Special Agent DiNozzo out safely," Sacks said, reigning in his enthusiasm. If he let himself, he'd be dreaming about the promotion that was no doubt coming his way. And who was he kidding? He let himself dream often. "He's our first priority. In fifteen minutes, he'll be rounded up with everyone else, and brought in for 'booking'. No more east coast terrorist cell and no more Mid-Atlantic Mafia family." His smile was evident in his voice.

On the plasma, McGee tried to follow as many people as he could. He was rapidly switching cameras to keep a visual on Abu-Wahib. At the same time, he was following Tony around the mansion. Abby was busy filtering out noises so they could get as much on tape as possible, and the experienced Feds in MTAC were trying to squelch the feeling of imminent disaster in their guts. Fornell checked his watch; his people were still a good ten minutes out.

"Good day, gentlemen."

All eyes turned to see Trent Kort buttoning his jacket and heading towards the ramp.

"You're leaving?" Fornell asked in dismay. "It's just getting good."

"I have some work to catch up on. I trust you'll wrap things up here."

"And to think I thought spooks liked a clean resolution to things."

And he was gone. Sacks was puzzled by this and asked, "Why do you think he left? I mean, we're about to see our agencies' money pay off…in dividends!"

When Gibbs let himself crawl into the brain of that obnoxious spook, he didn't like what he saw, and it showed. No sooner had he realized something was wrong than both Fornell and Vance realized it too.

Vance toned, "How long before your men are there!"

It didn't matter the answer; it was going to be too late.

*************************************8

Ziva kept wondering why the DiCarlo Family evacuated all the women and children. She thought about it the entire ride through Maryland and into DC. There were numerous reasons why, but none of them were good for Tony. The driver had let her out at the hotel and sped off. She promptly flagged down the nearest taxi and had him take her to the Navy Yard. She was within sight of the Yard when it suddenly hit her. The knowledge froze her momentarily, taking her breath away. She asked to borrow the driver's cell phone but he didn't have one; something about being against company policy. She demanded he give it to her, but he never wavered from his story. She fidgeted, her stomach churning at what she knew to be true. She passed the guards, and ran the steps. She pushed through the doors leading to MTAC, but her worst thoughts were now coming true. The noise and the explosions on the screen verified it.

*************************************8

Tony heard the helicopter before he saw it. Just minutes earlier, he had made his way back to his bedroom and was going to change out of his suit when the loud rotors caught his attention.

He had only managed to toss his jacket and tie on a chair before the house rocked from an explosion. As he stood at his bedroom window watching the helicopter spray bullets at the house, he'd wished he'd had a weapon. The copter had come in low avoiding detection. When he first heard it, he thought it might be another guest, but the distinct sounds of cannon fire and Gatling-fire killed that idea. It wasn't until he heard the sounds of explosions coming from the back of the house that he put it all together. He was in the middle of was a full-blown, no hold barred, Mafia-on-Mafia hit going down. "Michel!" he said to no one, and then dove for cover as the bullets sprayed through the window, cutting down everything in their way. The noise deafened him and the debris rained over him. When the bullets stopped, he grabbed the only weapon he had, a candlestick holder, and flew out the door in search of the only person he really cared about.

He raced down the stairs and into the main part of the house, checking on downed men as he went. He saw the no-neck goon who had returned Ziva just last night, bleeding profusely. He propped him up against the wall, stripped him of his jacket and pressed it hard against his gaping chest wound, knowing how wasted his attempts were. For it all, he received a weak, but appreciative, nod. He took an Uzi from a guard who wasn't going to miss it. The last place he saw the family headed was for the study. He was within sight of the door when an explosion blew him off his feet and sent him flying backwards, slamming into a wall.

He lay there beneath the rubble and falling ruins of the house. His senses deadened by the blast: he no longer heard the noise of the gunfire or the men shouting. Vertigo was making objects roll slowly as if the world was now riding a wave. He moved, but he moved in slow motion and he wasn't making much progress. He stumbled outside, which wasn't difficult since the back of the mansion was now exposed to the overcast skies and the great outdoors. He thought he saw men running, men firing automatics, helicopters hovering, cement statues and concrete walkways disintegrating, but it was all happening much too slowly and without any sound.

He stood and raised his Uzi, his brain was scrambled and he'd be hard pressed to explain what was happening, but he took aim at the helicopter and unloaded 3500 rounds of ammunition.

In MTAC, Gibbs, Fornell, Sacks and Vance were all standing, staring disbelievingly at the commotion. Ziva had frozen on the ramp and McGee and Abby and the other technicians were stunned at what they were witnessing. They watched as the helicopter swayed, then lurched, and then tilted. Its blade ripped through the top floor of the mansion causing the bird's tail to rise up. When that happened, it rammed full speed into the pool, resulting in an explosion that sent black smoke and debris hundreds of feet into the air.

The entire attack took less than ten minutes, but it looked like a war zone. When Gibbs got his wits about him, he said, "McGee." But McGee was still staring at the screen, wondering how so much damage could be done in such a short period of time. "McGee!"

Tim looked at him.

"Are there survivors?"

He started tapping on his keyboard trying to patch into any of the other cameras on the estate. Most had been destroyed but there were a few that were still functioning. The images that were coming through were no better than the others. It was hard to tell if the men on the ground were dead, but based on the pools of crimson colored fluids forming next to them, it looked rather obvious that they were. Some camera lenses were covered in debris while others were cracked making it difficult to see accurately the men on the ground. Every camera was being used to scan for Tony, but it was useless given the quality of the images.

Fornell's phone rang. Whoever was on the other end was speaking so loudly that his voice could easily be heard within the now silent MTAC. "What the hell is happening up there, Agent Fornell? It looks like World War III broke out at the same time an earthquake hit! We're three minutes out! What are we going into!"

Fornell wasn't sure how to advise his team. It looked like the fight was over because there didn't appear to be anyone alive or at least conscious to carry on. He swallowed and said, "Proceed with caution, Agent Matthews. Remember, we have an undercover agent inside and he's your first priority. Locate him after you secure the area."

"Yessir! We'll find Agent DiNozzo and bring him home, Sir."

Fornell clicked off. He heard McGee talking quietly to a 911 dispatcher, initiating the call for ambulances.

*************************************8

The anxiety in MTAC was apparent. Gibbs never moved from his spot on the floor, even after Fornell and Sacks left. Vance had authorized satellite coverage but left before the link was established. He had some checking to do on a certain CIA operative. Soon, they were watching in real time as the FBI agents searched what remained of the estate. Abby had been able to locate several audio drops that hadn't been obliterated and enhance the sound so they could hear the agents as they secured the property.

Ambulance after ambulance had come and gone. Surprisingly, there appeared to be a fair number of men still alive, but the extent of their injuries may change their status.

Dr. Mallard sighed, "What hospital are they taking them to?"

"Frederick Memorial," McGee answered.

"Do you know the conditions of any of the survivors?"

"Only that most of them have bullet wounds and/or burns. Two have died in transport already."

"I take it we don't have any names yet?"

McGee shook his head. He shared a glance with Abby, who was wide eyed with fear. He wasn't sure what she would do if they identified Tony as among the deceased. For that matter, he wasn't sure what he would do.

Gibbs' phone rang and he glanced at the display, "McGee, put it on speaker."

Tim plugged it in and Gibbs answered, "You find Tony yet?"

"We're still looking," Fornell said. "We just arrived a few minutes ago and I've been told that there are more men alive than dead, fortunately."

Gibbs only cared about one person being alive. "Nobody's seen DiNozzo?"

"He's not in his bedroom or any of the hallways. We're looking outside but…well, you should know that most of the men outside were killed."

"We have you on satellite."

"Then you can see what we see. The only difference is the smell. Pyrodex propellants, gun powder, diesel and…" he didn't finish.

Gibbs shifted. The 'and…' was the distinct smell of death.

"I'll call back when we have something," Fornell said and clicked off.

Dazed, Ziva sat down in one of the leather chairs. Just a few hours ago, she had been lounging in the swimming pool where a two-ton helicopter now resided. Or what remained of one. If Tony had been outside, there was no way she could see how he could have survived. She had wanted to go with Fornell and Sacks back to the estate and help look for him, but Fornell nixed the idea. It was bad enough that one of Gibbs' agents was missing, he wasn't about to risk two.

"Boss?" McGee said. "I've pulled up the recording of all the cameras prior to the attack."

"And I have their associated audio," Abby said.

McGee continued, "We might be able to find Tony and follow him. At least maybe give Fornell a place to start looking."

"Do it."

McGee clicked away on his keyboard until the plasma screen picked up the previously recorded image of Tony, dressed in his tailor made Italian suit, meeting Ahmed Abu-Wahib along with the rest of the family. The watched as the family and the terrorist disappeared into the study, allowing Tony to leave.

McGee was able to play back the recording of Tony in the hallway and they watched him turn into his bedroom. Since there were no cameras inside, Abby turned up the tape recorder and they listened to nothing until a barrage of firepower came crackling through the speakers, causing Abby to jump.

McGee knew what she'd be thinking and assured her, "Remember what Fornell said? He said Tony wasn't in his room."

About that time, the camera had picked up Tony racing back out of his room and down the hallway. McGee was able to play the tape of him in the stairwell and then on the first floor. They watched as he stopped long enough to drag a man out of harm's way and try to staunch the flow of blood from his chest. He then picked up a semi-automatic pistol and took off running towards the study. The camera on that hallway had picked him up and as he was running towards it, an explosion had sent him flying backwards. McGee ran the tape of another camera where they were able to watch Tony stumble about, obviously disoriented from the blast. He was moving slowly trying to make his way into the pool area when he went out of range. McGee played the tape of one of the few outside cameras that hadn't already been riddled with bullets. On that, they watched Tony stumble into the daylight, raise the sub-machine gun he'd previously commandeered from a dead terrorist, and open fire on the helicopter. Once the pilot had been killed, the copter did a nose-dive into the pool, causing a massive explosion that obliterated most of the cameras and audio drops in the vicinity.

The screen went dark after that and they stared a moment longer at the blank screen, taking in the chaos that Tony had found himself in the middle of.

"Call Fornell back," Gibbs ordered.

McGee dialed the number and put it on speaker.

"Yeah," Fornell answered.

"Look outside the house near the pool."

Fornell was already at the back of the house and it was a disaster zone. The hope in his friend's voice didn't help matters. "I'm already here, but—"

"—He was last standing on the steps leading to the pool."

Fornell yelled to his men, "Start looking over by the steps!"

"Gibbs," Fornell warned, "there's nothing but chunks of concrete and debris over there. Are you sure he might be there."

"I'm not sure of anything, Fornell, but the tapes we've been watching puts him there when the chopper went down."

McGee allowed the satellite to fill the screen and Fornell had been right; there was nothing left of the back of the house, the steps, or the pool. It resembled war-torn Sarajevo circa 1992, he thought. He had to be strong, if not for himself, for Abby. With nothing to do but wait, she nervously tapped the console.

They could hear some voices in the background but couldn't make out what was being said. Finally, Fornell came over the speaker loudly, "You're not gonna believe this, Gibbs, but we found him!"

Ziva stood up and anxiously said, "How is he? Is he alive?"

Fornell didn't immediately answer and she repeated, "Fornell! Is he okay?"

A minute later he came back on and said, "He's alive! But he's in bad shape. He was buried under all these cement blocks and stone. I don't know how he's alive, but he's alive."

Ziva smiled, not sure who she should share her jubilation with, while Abby hugged McGee. Gibbs' rocked on his heels, keenly aware of the rough road ahead for his senior agent.

*************************************8

Gibbs hadn't expected to beat the medical transport to Bethesda Medical, but he did. Ducky and McGee shared a moment of thanks when they narrowly escaped imminent death as Gibbs roared through, not one, but two red lights. Only Ziva didn't appear to be suffering any ill effects from the car ride. They watched as the medical helicopter landed on the red X and a team of medical personnel ran out to meet it. Tony was lifted onto a gurney and whisked into the hospital. His initial appearance wasn't good. Blood was come out of just about every orifice on his head and his previously white, button-down shirt was neither.

"How is he?" Ziva attempted to ask. They paid little attention to her until she decided to follow them behind closed doors. "He is my partner!" she yelled through the glass. "I have a right to know how he is doing!" Only when an armed security guard appeared did she reluctantly make her way to the waiting room with the others.

"Ah, Ziva," Tim said hesitantly.

"What!"

"You aren't exactly dressed like an agent," he said, gently.

"So? He is still my partner no matter how I am dressed!"

"Yes, but you also don't have any creds on you."

She may not care about the thigh high leather stiletto boots or the short leather mini-skirt, but she did know the value of proper credentials. Reluctantly, she took a seat and let her more 'official' friends inquire about him.

In the three hours of waiting, they learned that Tony had been sent into emergency surgery. The doctors were vague and wouldn't offer any prognosis, but he was alive and for now, that had to be good enough.

Meanwhile, the waiting room had become crowded. Abby and Palmer showed up together. A few minutes later, Fornell and Sacks arrived. With every visitor, the same question was asked, and the same answer given: "He's in surgery. We won't know how he is until they update us."

Fornell offered an unofficial SITREP. "It's difficult to account for people who don't supposedly exist, but near as we can figure, there were around 34 people at the estate during the attack. Of those 34, fifteen were pronounced dead at the scene, four more died in route to the hospital. Of the fifteen left, eight are critical, three are in serious condition, and four have been released into police custody."

"How is Michel?" Ziva asked.

Fornell hesitated. "Michel DiCarlo, along with his father and brothers, were killed. The study took a direct hit, instantly killing everyone, including Ahmed Abu-Wahib. It'll be some time before the remains are recovered."

Ziva thought of the mother. She'd never spoken with her, but she'd seen her and she knew enough to know she doted on her boys. She worried how Tony would take the news.

Agent Ron Sacks stepped forward and fidgeted. Finally he said, "I'm sorry about Agent DiNozzo. I know we haven't always seen eye to eye, but he's one of the best agents I think I've ever worked with. And it was actually a pleasure watching him work. I'm sorry this case ended up with him being here, in the hospital. I hope you tell him that for me."

Gibbs nodded, knowing a genuine gesture when he heard it.

Sacks acknowledged his boss and then left the waiting room.

"It would seem like DiNotzo brings out the best in people. But I have to hand it to your boy, Gibbs, he did an outstanding job. One for the books and eventually the classrooms in Quantico."

They knew that Tony wouldn't care about that. He wouldn't care about any awards or medals or commendations that were no doubt being lined up to give him. He would care about the people he wasn't able to save.

"I know it's of little consolation given what he's going through now, but eliminating a terrorist cell while simultaneously cutting off the head of a Mafia organization is nothing short of a miracle," Fornell added. "There may have been three agencies working this operation, but we all know who pulled this off, and I'll be sure to put that in my report. However, I can't guarantee what our CIA counterpart will do."

"Speaking of the CIA," Director Vance said while entering the room and approaching them, "I've some news to report, but first, how's Special Agent DiNozzo?"

"We don't know yet, Director," Abby said. "He's still in surgery."

Vance mulled that over a moment and then continued, "I made a few phone calls and learned a thing or two about Agent Kort. He was the one who tipped off the Guidinetti Family that Ahmed Abu-Wahib was going to be at the DiCarlo estate. He also supplied them with details of the meeting and a floor plan of the house."

All but Gibbs and Fornell looked surprised.

"Why would he do that?" Ziva asked, incredulous at the thought.

"Because he never had any intentions of bringing in Ahmed Abu-Wahib alive. He always planned that one of the families would kill him, which one, he didn't care. As we lined up the players, he lined up his snitches."

"And Tony?" McGee asked.

"Collateral damage."

"What about the money?" Gibbs said.

"Gone. The CIA froze their assets and then it all mysteriously disappeared. All Kort needed was the bank and he was able to fill in the missing pieces. I'm personally meeting with SECNAV to give him my report, and I'd like to give him an update on Agent DiNozzo."

Dr. Mallard took that as his cue and excused himself. He walked to the volunteer station, and returned a moment later. "Tony's out of surgery and the doctor's on his way up."

Annoyed at what he'd learned about Kort, Fornell said, "I have a meeting with my director too. I'll be sure to relay your findings."

A voice interrupted them, "Excuse me. I'm looking for a relative of Anthony DiNozzo."

"I'm his boss."

The doctor was still dressed in hospital blue scrubs, hair cover and shoe covers. He looked at the room full of people and asked, "Are all of you waiting for news about him?"

Vance pulled his credentials and let the doctor read them, "I'm Leon Vance, Director of NCIS. Anthony DiNozzo is one of my agents. I'd like an update on his condition, please."

"Very well," he said, still wary of the crowd. "We were able to stabilize him enough for surgery. He had four bullets in him; fortunately, none of them was life threatening. With the exception of his left leg, I think the bullet wounds will heal. That left leg took a bullet that shattered his fibula. We were able to insert a metal pin, that's temporary and will be switched out for a permanent fix when he's stronger. He sustained mostly first and second degree burns and they were confined to his arms and back. Both ear drums ruptured. Internally, his kidneys and spleen suffered extensive bruising and his liver was torn. He doesn't appear to have a concussion although we haven't ruled that out yet. They can sometimes come about hours after the initial trauma, so we're monitoring him." He paused to reflect on his words, wondering if he'd left out anything. "And of course numerous cuts, bruises and scrapes. If you see him, you may be shocked at his appearance, but most of those wounds are superficial and should heal if properly treated."

"When can we see him?" Ziva asked.

"He's still in recovery and then he'll be moved to intensive care. I'm sorry but only one family member is allowed in ICU." He looked at the faces and said, "But I might be able to make an exception. Just keep him calm and don't upset him."

Gibbs nodded and then the surgeon and Dr. Mallard walked away together.

Vance said, "I have to meet up with SECNAV. Keep me posted."

Fornell looked at his watch and said, "I should be going, too. I have the meeting with my director and I want to learn more about Kort and his … accomplices."

When Gibbs turned back around, two sets of female eyes were staring at him, or more accurately, staring him down. The unspoken words were which one of them was going to be allowed to go in and visit Tony.

He turned and walked away.

*******************************8

ICU was dimly lit and cramped. Each patient had his or her own space delineated by long curtains on short tracks. No need for privacy here, Gibbs thought. And every monitor hooked up to every patient could be seen from a central station, which was manned 24x7 by no fewer than two nurses. Gibbs found an empty chair and moved it into Tony's allotted space.

There were more machines hooked up to Tony than he'd ever seen hooked up to anyone. In addition to the expected blood pressure cuff and IV, there were pinchers on multiple fingers, tubes coming from his nose, and wires coming out from under his hospital gown. His leg was propped up (in some kind of traction), and bandages were covering most of his exposed skin. And that was only what he could see. No telling what he looked like under the gown and blankets.

"Are you his father?"

Gibbs turned and saw a middle aged woman in scrubs with a clipboard and pen in hand and a lanyard full of IDs. "No. I'm his boss…and his friend."

"He's a lucky man."

"Are you his nurse?"

She nodded. "I'm Rita. We have a ratio of 1.5:1 in ICU, meaning every nurse cares for exactly one and a half patients, so you'll be seeing me around a lot since he's my one."

"I'd hate to see your half."

She gave him a warm smile and said, "We'll take good care of your friend here so he can make a full recovery."

"So he will make a full recovery?"

She replaced the clipboard and pocketed her pen, "I haven't lost a patient yet. I predict that he'll make it out of ICU, beyond that, I can't say. But judging from years of experience, I'd say he's got a better than average chance." And she disappeared.

Gibbs sat down and waited. It was late but he didn't feel tired, or at least he thought he wasn't tired. The next thing he knew he was staring at Ziva, who was staring down at Tony.

"I am sorry, Gibbs," she said, "I did not want to wake you."

Gibbs took a deep breath, blinked several times, and assessed his surroundings, "What time is it?"

"A little past six. You have been here all night. The doctor finally allowed a second person to visit."

"And Abby just let you come in?"

"No." She hedged a little and said, "I had McGee distract her."

He rubbed his eyes and noticed she was holding Tony's hand. "How is he?"

"He is…'stable'. The nurse changed one of his bandages this morning, said the incision looks good." She glanced at her boss. Under the worst of conditions, he was a handsome man, but he was looking more haggard than usual lately. This mission seemed to have taken a toll on him. "Why don't you go home? I will stay with him for a while.

He looked around, eventually landing his gaze back on an unconscious DiNozzo. He decided he could probably use a cup a coffee and left.

Ziva continued to stand by his bed, holding his hand, and wondering how he was going to come through this.

********************************8

Tony thought he heard something. Whatever it was, it was distant, and he couldn't make out what it was. If it was voices, he had no idea what was being said or who was saying it. If it was voices, he wanted to hear it. First, he needed to wake up. Only he wasn't sure how to do that. He wasn't even sure if he was sleeping. Maybe he was dead?

Slowly, he opened his eyes. Nothing was what he expected, but he'd be hard pressed to say what exactly he did expect. He seemed to be looking at a ceiling, one of those old tile ones with holes and water stains. He could see lights flashing and monitors and hear the faint ringing of bells. He could even move his head.

Then a man appeared, and the mere sight of him allowed his muscles to relax and his mind to drift off again.

"How come he keeps doing that?"

Rita smiled, "His body's been traumatized, Agent Gibbs, not to mention his mind. He just needs time to heal. The good news is whenever he sees you, all his vitals stabilize so you must have a calming effect on him."

Ziva almost laughed until a somewhat indignant look from Gibbs stopped her.

"Sorry, Gibbs, I did not mean to say that you were not calming….it is just that you are not what comes to mind when one wishes to be calmed."

Rita laughed at the exchange and said, "I think he's going to be in good hands when he comes to."

"When might that be?" she asked.

"Hard to tell. We like for them to get as much sleep as possible because when the sleep wears off, so too does the medication. That's when he'll have lots of pain and lots of questions." She adjusted his monitors. "Hey, I just thought of something. Who is… Miguel? Mitchell? Michelle? I'm not sure what he was saying, but he was asking about someone earlier?"

"Michel," Ziva said. "He was an acquaintance of Tony's."

The past tense wasn't lost on the nurse. She nodded and patted her patient's good leg, knowing that when he awakens, he may be in for an emotional ride.

***********************************88

At times, Tony felt like he was underwater without a care, drifting serenely to parts unknown, and at other times, he felt like he was suffocating, clawing for air, and trapped. Rising to the surface, he could see the light, but it was still too dark to discern any objects. And then it was there, slowly coming into focus. The ceiling, the monitors, the metal arms, the tubes. The same ringing invaded his ears and no matter which way he turned his head, he couldn't seem to get rid of it.

He stared at the ceiling until someone touched his arm. He saw Gibbs staring down at him. At first, his boss looked happy and smiled, but then his expression changed and he looked concerned. Then a nurse came into his line of sight and she looked like she was saying something, but if they expected him to answer, they'd have to turn down that damn ringing bell.

"What's wrong with him?" Gibbs asked, still staring into his agent's eyes.

Rita took out her pen and flipped over a piece of paper and wrote 'Can you hear us?' and showed it to Tony.

He wanted to speak but his mouth was stuffed with cotton, or so it felt. He didn't care about hearing them; he cared about Michel. He shook his head. He caught a glimpse of another man, and then all three were talking but if they were talking to him, they had better speak a hell of a lot louder or get rid of this damn ringing sound.

The doctor explained, "Both his eardrums were ruptured when he came in. It's too early to tell if the damage is permanent."

"Can he hear anything?"

"Maybe. But he has other more pressing issues to be concerned about. Fortunately, he's strong and in good health and seems to be recovering nicely, but with the extent of his injuries, infection is a major concern. If his counts are normal by this afternoon, that's a good sign and I'll release him out of ICU. Judging by his reaction whenever he sees you, Agent Gibbs, I think his recovery will be greatly speeded up when he's able to communicate with his family and friends."

They turned back to their patient, but he was out again.

***************************8

Gibbs caught catnaps most of the day after his team had left. Earlier in the day, one by one, they had filtered through the ICU unit, squeezing Tony's hand, rubbing his leg, patting his arm, doing whatever made them feel close to him. They'd ask Gibbs how he was doing like they couldn't see for themselves. Tony, on the other hand, spent most of the day going in and out of consciousness. At times it looked like he was concentrating on what they were saying, but he couldn't hear them, and then they'd look at Gibbs and he'd have to tell them what the doctor had told him. By the time they'd look back down, Tony was out again. Gibbs suspected the medication was working quite well.

Gibbs woke with a start, not knowing exactly why, but then he saw Tony staring at him. He scrubbed his head and stretched. "Hey," he smiled at his agent, hoping the passing of time had brought some positive news.

Tony didn't respond.

Gibbs wrote down, 'eardrums have ruptured…it's why you can't hear.'

Tony focused hard on the letters, which was difficult to do in the dimly lit room with the constant ringing in his ears and the piss-poor handwriting. But it became evident to Gibbs the moment he understood. Tony lifted his hand and Gibbs placed the pen in it and the paper under. He scribbled, 'water.'

He took a few sips before he turned his head away. With his mouth still feeling like it was full of cotton, Tony scribbled, 'date?'

Gibbs wrote back, 'Thursday.' Out loud, he said, "You've been out for two days."

Tony felt his eyes getting heavy again, but he didn't want to sleep anymore. He wanted answers, yet he wasn't sure of the questions. Something had happened to him, but his brain was too foggy to pull all the pieces together into some semblance of order. He would see faces but not clearly enough to make out who they were, and he'd remember names, but only for a second. 'Michel' soon floated to the surface. Yes, he wanted to know about his friend, but the drugs were keeping him drowsy and he wanted them gone. "No more drugs," he whispered. "I can't think…no more."

Gibbs patted his shoulder and said, "You don't have to think anymore, Tony. I'll do all the thinking for you." But by Tony's expression, he might as well have said nothing.

"Michel…"

Gibbs furrowed his brow as he didn't feel it was the time to tell him what had happened. Fortunately, Tony was soon breathing steady in another drug induced slumber.

Gibbs looked at the LED on his ringing phone and decided to answer, "Yeah."

Fornell updated his NCIS counterpart, "I found out what Kort did. He played us both."

"We knew that. Where is he now?"

"Disappeared into the wind. The CIA is trying to disavow knowledge of the operation so they don't have to pay up."

"We knew that was coming, too. Tell me something that I don't already know."

"I had the papers report that Tony Villani was among the casualties so no one will go looking for him. Speaking of which, how is he?"

Gibbs studied the unconscious man, "He'll live. Got a tough road ahead of him."

"Don't we all. When's he set for release?"

"I'll let you know." With that, he hung up.

****************************************8

The next couple days were better. Everyday Tony was making progress, staying awake a little longer, moving a little more. And every day, the team would come and visit him. Sometimes he was awake while they were here and other times he was out cold. Gibbs never seemed to have left his side, although he had on clean clothes each day and looked as though he had showered.

Finally, Tony was released from ICU and moved into a regular hospital room. This is the point at which Gibbs usually said goodbye. Watching the endless teams of nurses and doctors and visitors stream through the room wasn't his idea of anything, and he had things to do. But for some reason, he stayed. After they moved him into a private room and all the nurses and aides had left, Gibbs studied his agent. Tony was still a sight to see: bruises, cuts, and scraps covering his swollen face. Both eyes were blackened and his hands were badly scraped. He'd said on several occasions that he didn't want any more drugs, but if his face was any indication of the rest of his body, he had to be in considerable pain, and so they kept the pain killers flowing through his IV.

Gibbs was most concerned about his hearing. He'd written more in the form of notes to Tony than he'd written all year, always avoiding answering the questions about Michel. At times, he'd click his fingers or slip his ringing cell phone next to Tony's ear, hoping that there'd be some reaction, even it was only a slight twitch, but there never was.

When he found himself alone once again with his agent, he toyed with the idea of leaving. Tony had slept most of the morning, and that wouldn't change until the morphine stopped flowing. He decided to stay a few more hours and found a semi-comfortable chair to sit in. He must have dozed off because when he came too, the room was dark. Even though he couldn't make out Tony's facial details, he felt him staring at him. When his eyes finally adjusted to the dim lighting, he saw Tony, and he realized that he was feeling the hard stare of a federal agent who had more questions than Gibbs had answers.

He straightened, rubbed his hands quickly over his head and acknowledged his agent, "How long you been awake?"

"Can you get rid of this ringing sound?"

It was the first full sentence his agent had spoken since he'd been brought into the hospital almost four days ago.

"Can you hear me?"

Tony furrowed his brow at the words. "This ringing…" he put his hand over an ear. "I can't stand it anymore."

Gibbs pressed the nurse's button and then repeated, "Can you hear anything I'm saying?"

He nodded slightly. For what it was worth, Tony could hear something, only it was too faint and distant to make out. "This ringing…it won't stop."

Gibbs relayed the problem to the nurse and she said she'd ask the doctor. He never saw her again, but Tony had drifted back to sleep so he took the opportunity to call Ducky. Within a couple of hours, Ducky was staring down at Tony and relaying his knowledge of ruptured eardrums and hearing loss, which was practically verbatim to what the doctor in ICU had said.

"Will be regain his hearing?"

"It's possible, but then again, it's possible he won't. It's too early to say anything definitively, but ringing is a good sign."

Gibbs wondered what Tony would do if he couldn't be a federal agent. That possibility was always a reality for any of them every day they came to work, but it was different now. Gibbs practically slumped when he said, "He's got a lot of questions I don't want to answer, Duck."

"Like?"

"He's been asking about Michel DiCarlo."

"The brother that befriended him?"

Gibbs nodded.

Pained at the thought, Ducky offered, "He's going to find out eventually. I find the sooner one learns the truth, the sooner one can start healing."

People like Tony don't heal from things like this. They push it aside, bury it deep, or box it in, but they don't recover. He knew, because he was the same way. "One problem at a time, Ducky. I'd like for him to get his hearing back first."

As they stared, they saw that the patient was restless. His dreams must be tormenting him and that's when Gibbs did something Ducky had only ever seen him do once before. He placed his hand over Tony's hand and gently squeezed. As if a sedative had been shot directly into his veins, Tony relaxed and let his body give under the sheets. For the first time, he actually looked at peace.

"How do we go forth?" Gibbs whispered.

Ducky sighed, for as much attention that was being directed towards their senior field agent, most forgot the impact all this had on the rest of the team, specifically Gibbs. Speaking as much about Tony as he was his friend, he offered, "We go forth just like any other recovery. He'll need time to regain his strength, come to terms with what happened, and move on from this ordeal. He's spent months as Tony Villani, now he has to reclaim Anthony DiNozzo's life. An extremely important part of everyone's recovery, I might add."

Ducky waited out the silence and eventually said, "Why don't you go home? I'll stay with him until morning."

Gibbs patted him on the back and nodded appreciatively, then disappeared out the door.

***************************************8

Tony was exhausted, and it actually felt good. Several nurses had finally gotten him out of bed and he had hobbled to a wheelchair, no easy task given he had to keep his left leg in some sort of contraption and he couldn't always understand their hand gestures. He was then pushed to the bathroom where, for the first time, he saw himself in the mirror. He had to admit that he was some kind of sight. The bruises, cuts, and abrasions were too numerous to count, but the swelling had significantly diminished. His hands, arms, and back were still bandaged from the burns, and his midsection was dressed. And everything hurt. The entire excursion took about an hour and he was grateful when he eventually made it back to the bed.

"When can I go home?"

The nurse absently said, "You're making good progress and if you keep this up, you'll be out of here sooner than later."

Tony closed his eyes for it was becoming evident that communicating with anyone was rapidly becoming an exercise in futility, so he let his mind drift. Thinking about Gibbs seemed to be a favorite place to go. But without warning, Gibbs' face would fade and be replaced with dead bodies, helicopters, and explosions. Then, he'd get flashes of faces: Michel, Vincent, Michel, Nicholas,—

A hand to his shoulder interrupted his thoughts and his eyes shot open. "Michel?"

Dr. Mallard sighed, "No, Anthony, not Michel."

"Ducky?"

"Yes." His confusion was evident so he added, "You must be patient, my boy. Your wounds need time to heal."

"Where's Gibbs?"

"He'll be back. He's been here non-stop since you were brought in."

"I know you're talking but I can't make out what you're saying."

"Can you hear anything?"

Tony furrowed his brow. "What?"

This time, Ducky spoke deliberately and slowly, "Can. You. Hear. Anything?"

"Some sounds. Very faint, though."

Ducky patted him on the shoulder and smiled, "That's a good sign. It means your eardrums are healing."

"Where did they take Michel?"

Ducky feigned ignorance; instead of answering, he studied the cast on his leg, and remarked how far they've come in such treatments, all of which was lost on his patient.

"Ducky? Do you know where they took Michel?"

He shook his head, taking some comfort in that he wasn't completing lying.

"Where's Gibbs?"

As if on cue, Gibbs walked through the door. "I'm right here."

"Boss!" he said, clearly excited to see him.

Following him into the room came Ziva, Abby and McGee.

Tony brightened even though it hurt to smile.

Both women went to either side of his bed. Abby took his hand in hers and Ziva rested hers on his arm. "You are looking well," she said. "Better than the last time I saw you."

Tony just stared. Her voice was there, but making any meaning out of her words was proving difficult. With uncertainty, he asked, "You were gone before the attack?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Do you remember the evacuation of all the women and children?"

He studied her face. He did catch one of her words, evacuation, and he nodded. "Evacuation… I remember."

Abby was almost giddy with excitement, "Tony! I know you've been gone, but a lot has happened since you were commandeered by the FBI. Do you remember Caitlin in Evidence? She got engaged to Harry in Cyber Crimes, which is really strange because Caitlin and Harry have, like, nothing in common. And then Mary in Security and Blake in Accounting also got engaged and they have nothing in common!"

Tony watched her lips move but didn't comprehend a word she was saying. She was fascinating to watch, however. He'd never really studied her while she talked, but she was quite animated and he could hear the story without hearing the words, just by watching her expressions. She was either talking about bowling with the nuns, or gossip around the office. He decided it must be gossip around the office, but couldn't explain why he thought that. Unfortunately, he lost interest soon after she began. He had questions of his own he wanted answered. He waited for a pause in her story and asked, "—Where's Michel?"

Even though he couldn't hear much, Tony was acutely aware that the room had fallen silent. He repeated, "Michel? What hospital is he in?"

Still, no answer.

"Hey!" he snapped. Why was everyone ignoring him? "Michel DiCarlo? You do remember him, right? Where is he?"

Abby pulled her hand back and looked around for Gibbs. There was no way she was going to be the bearer of bad news. But Gibbs was not looking like he had an answer. Even when Tony caught his eyes, he only held the gaze a few seconds before he looked away.

"McGee!" Tony said.

No one was more startled than Tim when he heard his name. It stood to reason, though, given that he wasn't a very good liar and Tony knew it. Anytime DiNozzo wanted answers, he knew exactly where to get them.

"McGee! Where are you?"

Tim walked up behind Abby and said, "Yeah?"

Tony shifted positions, trying to get comfortable and looking around Abby to see him. He asked, "Where'd they take Michel? Which hospital?"

Tim bit his lower lip and then said, "Tony, ummm, Michel… isn't in a hospital."

"What?"

Tim shook his head and repeated a little louder, "He isn't in a hospital, Tony."

"He's not in a hospital?"

Surprised that he understood, McGee nodded.

Confused, Tony asked, "You mean he came away from that attack unscathed? Impossible. The place was a war zone…" As he searched his mind for answers, the realization of what might have happened slowly dawned on him. He shifted, wrapping his head around the possibility that Michel might not have made it.

"Boss? What's he talking about?"

When Gibbs approached the bed, his team stepped back. Gibbs leaned down, resting one hand on Tony's arm and the other hand next to his head. "Can you hear me?"

Tony shrugged. It wasn't so much that he could hear as he could read expressions and lip movements. He wasn't that good at it, but he seemed to be catching on as long as he could concentrate on the speaker.

Gibbs began, "Michel was killed when a .50 caliber Gatling gun mounted on the helicopter destroyed the room he was in. His father, Vinny, Sr., and his four brothers were also killed."

Tony stared, unblinking. His mind was a dizzying mess of images. Michel, killed? It couldn't be; could it? Nah. Michel? But in his heart, he knew it was true. The devastation that landed him in the ICU for three days had to have done more damage than just to him.

Michel: dead. Vincent: dead. Nicholas: dead. Frank: dead. Mario: dead.

Michel. Dead.

It sunk it, and as it did, he felt the oxygen in the room being sucked away.

And the others knew it was time to leave because they were witness to the labored breathing of a man whose mind was deep in emotional turmoil and who was desperately fighting to keep it from surfacing.

****************************************8

Tony sensed someone was in his room. From the lack of light, he figured it was nighttime, but exactly how far into the night it was, he had no idea. He remembered feeling sick, and he remembered a nurse coming in, and he remembered the warm, numbing sensation as the narcotic began flowing through his veins.

And now, he felt sluggish and his head felt thick, the tell-tale signs of a drug induced slumber. What was the last thing he remembered? Everyone was in his room, and then he had learned something. Something terrible. Something he didn't want to know. Or admit to. Slowly, it came back to him. Yes, his memory was returning. And then, one reality after another assaulted him: Michel was dead; Michel's brothers were dead; Michel's father was dead.

No, he didn't want to know that, much less remember it.

He thought he saw his boss' silhouette against the window.

"Boss?"

Unsure of his friend's state of mind, Gibbs cocked his head.

"Gibbs?" Tony repeated, unsure if he was awake or imagining him.

Moving into the dim light, Gibbs answered, "Yeah, I'm here."

Seeing he was indeed seeing his boss and not mirage, he began, "I messed up. Again. I can't seem to not screw up my assignments."

Gibbs moved to the foot of his bed.

"You didn't mess anything up, Tony."

"But… I did."

"You can hear me?"

Tony nodded slightly. He could hear, not well, but well enough.

Thankful, Gibbs wondered just how much he should say. He knew the reality and the reality was Tony would need time to heal, just like anyone else who had gone deep undercover on a long term operation and witnessed some pretty heinous stuff. "The FBI is waiting for you to be released so they can give you a medal."

Tony didn't respond.

"Fornell says the only problem they're having is deciding which of the four medals to give you."

"Michel's dead."

Gibbs looked at his agent, "I know."

"Michel's family is dead."

Gibbs locked eyes with him.

"Michel shouldn't be dead. He didn't deserve it."

Gibbs sat down on the bed, listening.

"He wasn't like the rest of them. He wanted to be a teacher."

At times like these, there was nothing that he could have said that would have made Tony feel better, so he listened.

"Who did it? Who was responsible?"

"The Guidinetti Family… Ahmed Abu-Wahib…The DiCarlo Family. Tony, they were all responsible."

Tony closed his eyes.

Gibbs continued, "The FBI picked up most them, and the CIA intercepted the terrorists' money. Abu-Wahib was killed in the attack."

A voice from the darkness said, "And so the snakes lost their heads."

Gibbs turned around and saw Fornell standing in the door way. "I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by. Mind if I come in?"

Gibbs deferred to Tony, but Tony wasn't in any mood to be cordial.

Fornell looked down on the bruised face of the man he'd hand selected for one of the most dangerous missions the FBI had ever participated in. "You did one hell of a job, DiNotzo."

Tony looked at him. He wasn't angry, he just wanted to turn back the hands of time, do things differently.

Fornell leaned closer to Gibbs and said, "He still can't hear?"

"I can hear you," Tony said. "The ringing's gone, and you're voice sounds different, but I can hear if you talk slow."

Fornell straightened and said, "There's a ceremony on hold for you. A lot of people want to recognize your hard work."

"Is it over?" Tony asked.

Fornell heard the pain in the man's voice and wished he could say something that could take it away, but there was nothing to say after an operation like this. He'd seen it before in undercover agents who'd done their jobs so damn well that it left them an emotional wreck. He leaned against the window sill and waited for Gibbs to say something.

"Yeah," Gibbs answered, "it's over."

Tony scratched his head. He wouldn't allow this case to get inside him. He couldn't allow it. He knew what he had gotten himself into, and he was a good agent. And good agents don't let themselves get personally involved. He had to let it go before it did irreparable damage.

"Okay," he tried to make himself sound strong, convey a message of strength, but he heard himself with his owns ears, as bad as there were, and he knew he sounded anything but convicted.

Tony didn't see them leaving, but the next time he opened his eyes, the room was empty and darker. He must have fallen asleep again. Or a more likely scenario, he was once again pumped up with medications that more or less rendered him unconscious. In a way, he was thankful for the reprieve, at least it staved off that feeling of profound loss that lingered on his brain like he'd just learnt the news.

He knew what he had to do. In order to move on, he had to admit to himself his role in Michel's death. He had to mourn the loss of Michel, just like he had mourned the loss of Jeanne Benoit.

He felt a tear stream down his face, and he felt another piece of his heart shrivel up and die.

*****************************8

The bullpen was unusually quiet given that all desks were occupied. McGee had gotten used to the quiet while Tony was recuperating, but now, since he'd returned, it didn't seem right. He caught Gibbs sending furtive glances Tony's way, which was a clue the quiet didn't seem right to him either. Even Ziva kept looking over her desk at Tony, but, unlike Gibbs, she wasn't nearly as subtle. Of the three of them, she was the one most likely to say something as patience was not her strong suit, and Gibbs knew that, which is why McGee suspected he was waiting for her to attack the problem head-on.

"Tony?" Ziva said, interrupting the silence.

McGee smiled to himself and thought, 'Aww, how well I know these people. Maybe, I should write a book…'

Tony lifted his eyes towards her.

His face was no longer bruised and the cuts and abrasions had healed long ago, but there was an emptiness to his eyes.

"What?"

"You are not talking and that is unusual. Are you bothered by something?"

Tony tilted his head, wondering just where he should start on the long list of crap that was bothering him. Instead, he decided to give his usual answer, "I'm fine."

"No, you are not. Especially when you say 'I'm fine,' I know you are not fine."

Semi-amazed at his colleague, he lifted his shoulders and asked, "Where does your logic come from?"

"You, of all people, should know that when someone says 'I'm fine' then they are not really fine. They are really saying, 'I am not fine but I do not want to talk about it."

Gibbs admired her thought process and it showed on his face as a smile crept slowly across his lips. If nothing else, she knew Tony. Tim was glad that Ziva was taking him on this way, allowing him to sit back and enjoy the show.

Tony leaned back and shook his head. "Sometimes, Ziva, doesn't your brain just hurt your head?"

"Not at all. Now, back to my question, are you bothered by something? Maybe your leg? Being in a cast can be awkward. Not to mention using those crutches. I know something is bothering you today, and I want to help."

Tony narrowed his eyes slightly, staring her down. If he wasn't in a cast, he might have pushed back from his desk and walked over to her. He would have leaned down in front of her and said what was on his mind. But he had to content himself with just leaning forward on his own desk. "As a matter of fact, there is something that's been bothering me."

Feeling vindicated, she smiled and nodded her head, "Go ahead, you can talk to me about it."

"Well, I have a memory of you—naked—in my bed with me."

Ziva snapped up straighter and lost her smile.

Tony continued, "Now, it's a fuzzy memory, but I do remember feeling your warm skin against mine. Of course, it could have all just been a dream…but it seemed so real."

Ziva bit her lower lip, wondering how in the world he'd remembered that. "It must have been a dream," she hissed, looking around her to make sure no one was listening. "I resent that you are dreaming of me that way!"

"No," Tony said, shaking his head and remembering, "now that I think about it, I don't think it was a dream. I remember that you snuggled up against me…"

"—You remember wrong!"

"I don't think so….McGee, can you pull the tapes from the hotel stay? I could have sworn that you crawled into my bed—"

"McGee! If you value your life, you will not pull anything!"

"McGee, who are you going to listen to?"

She hissed, "You were not supposed to know that! You were out cold!"

"Guess that tea stuff wasn't nearly as good as you thought."

Gibbs enjoyed the banter, but more importantly, he enjoyed the wave of relief that washed over him as he realized his agent was making his way back. He wasn't so naïve as to believe that Tony had emotionally healed from the whole ordeal, but he knew his agent was making headway. 'Baby steps,' as Abby would say, and if that's what it took, then he'd take the same baby steps with him until he had come to terms with the mission. And the next time Tony was deemed 'the perfect fit' for a mission, he'd come up with a plan to nix it, even if it meant shooting him.

He looked up in time to see Ziva throw a pen across the bullpen.

~Fini

Author's Note: Thanks to all who have read and commented. Admittedly, just trying to bring this story to an end was difficult for me. There were so many threads that could have been picked up, but like many of my stories, I get tired and need to just stop writing. Hats off to all who stayed with it to the bitter end. ~~Jasmine