author's note. I haven't actually watched the episode in a while, but I feel like it's been ages since I've written anything and I don't want to wait until April (when the Season 3 DVD's come out) to post this. I was just wondering about the inconsistency between what Ziva told McGee, and what Tony told McGee, and what really happened to Tony's arm. I'm sure he had a good reason for whatever lie he told.
As soon as Ziva has clattered away on clenched knees, Gibbs turns to Tony, uncharacteristic concern written on his face. "You hurt, DiNozzo?"
Tony's left arm hangs limp at his side. It takes him a moment to realize that the soft tick, tick he's been hearing is blood dripping down his index finger onto the cold concrete floor. "Caught a ricochet in the firefight. It's just a scratch, I think."
Gibbs' voice immediately softens. "Let's see it." He knows that there is no such thing as 'just a scratch' and the man Ziva shot in the foot would no doubt agree - he still hasn't stopped swearing in his native language, or perhaps the primal tongue of rage. Going to drive McGee nuts. "Here."
Tony shivers out of his jacket and sees the fleece lining is soaked with blood. It doesn't matter - he was going to throw it out anyway. "They didn't hit anything vital," he adds, wiggling bloody fingers by way of proof.
Gibbs knows he is right. "Should be able to stitch it up right in the ER," he agrees, bending his face away to hide his relief. A few more inches, and it would have been his heart. If it wasn't for DiNozzo and his stupid luck, Leroy Jethro Gibbs would be burying another agent.
Tony sits on the edge of the open shipping container as Gibbs presses his handkerchief - who carries a handkerchief these days, anyway? - onto the three-inch wound that slices his well-muscled upper arm. "Look, don't tell Ziva, okay?"
"What?" Gibbs thinks he's heard wrong - no, it's supposed to be his eyesight - but Tony's face is open, not joking. "She's going to have to know."
Tony isn't going to cry, he isn't going to go crazy, but he also isn't going to give her the satisfaction of asking her why. He knows that he can trust Ziva when it really matters. And he feels a little bit like a seventh-grade girl, wanting to keep a secret from her as punishment for the dinner party, but he's tired and sore and he got shot today and she didn't, so he feels justified in being just a little bit petty.
At least Gibbs (as far as he knows) was also excluded from her little social engagement. This seems odd. Gibbs gave her within weeks the approval that he, Tony, is still fighting for every day. It doesn't seem fair, but he isn't a man who expects fairness. He has seen far too many dead children - and one was enough - to believe in anything like that.
And Tony doesn't want to think about the food: no doubt she served them... goat or something equally horrifying. Probably one she slaughtered herself. It's just that having a dinner party and inviting everyone else… that's the sort of thing he would have expected from Kate, maybe, but not her.
Ziva's footsteps are approaching from the far end of the warehouse. Tony doubts that there was actually a ladies' room in a place like this but he doesn't want to think about where she actually might have peed. "Just tell her…" He lifts his arm, testing the makeshift bandage. He hopes not to spend any more time in the hospital than is absolutely, strictly necessary. "Just tell her I cut it on a box, okay?"
Gibbs doesn't see any reason to refuse. "Okay."