Disclaimer: NCIS characters and situations borrowed; no profits realized.

A/N: A sort of an entre-tag. Spoilers for 9.21 "Rekindled."

MVP

Friday night, 11:47 P.M., Baltimore. March 29, 1991. Not an overly busy March night, and quiet for a Friday night, but one that was just a bit grimmer than usual in the city's busiest trauma center. As he initialed his notes and tossed the chart back on the counter, the attending pulmonologist stretched a little and grimaced as he thought he could still catch the infrequent but familiar scent of char still floating delicately in the air, even out here. Straightening, he saw a cab pull up into the visitor's bay and a tall, lean figure jump out quickly. Assured it wasn't a patient by the man's vigor, he turned to reach for the jacket he'd tossed on a chair on his way in to the trauma rooms and patients waiting him.

"Where is he?"

The voice was not overly loud, but demanding and no-nonsense; the voice of command. Matt turned back to see the cab's passenger barreling through waiting area near the hospital's entrance and, with only a brief glance around, striding forcefully to the ED's counter. At his voice, one of the med students on duty, a short, fiery young woman who looked only about half her age, poked her head out of the meds locker and her eyes grew round when she got a look at the man.

Already pegging the man as a bully, Matt stepped over to the counter before the ward clerk spoke, putting a hand on her shoulder to let her know he had this. "May I hel..."

"DiNozzo. I got a call that he's here."

"Dr. Atterbury," the med student sided up nearly under Matt's elbow, her eyes not leaving the visitor. "This is Ronnie Akers. Coach Ronnie Akers. Head coach Ronnie Akers."

"Got it," Matt muttered to her, then looked at the agitated man, waiting.

"So he's here?" the coach demanded. "I was told he was okay, but you couldn't release him without someone coming down – which, I appreciate," his agitation was suddenly tempered by the thought of the alternative, his player back out wandering around an unfamiliar city, "but if he is alright, I'd like to get him back."

Matt paused briefly before he started speaking, trying a calming voice. "In a moment, coach – I'm Dr. Atterbury, and am chief of pulmonology here. I was called in for a consult with Tony. He'll be alright, but there are some things..."

"Will be? Pulmonologist?" The coach's eyes darted in frustration. "Doc, I don't know if you know who you have back there, but until your call 15 minutes ago he was one of my starting guards – my awol guard – for our game against UCLA about twenty hours from now. I want to see my player, and I want to know what the hell happened that a pulmonologist needed to see him."

The physician frowned. "Coach Akers, if you will just..."

The coach clearly wasn't used to being told to wait, and the fact that the object of his current frustration was a key to a very big game was wearing any patience he had to the breaking point. "What the hell did DiNozzo do now?" he demanded. "Where is he?"

Matt narrowed his eyes at the man and tipped his head. "Come with me," he ordered abruptly and set off toward the corridor to their left, the coach close on his heels.

...at which the med student smirked, her chuckle caught by the ward clerk as the women shared a look. DiNozzo, and Trauma Room Two, where he was waiting, were in the other direction.

Matt walked into an empty trauma bay in the currently unneeded back wing of Emergency, and turned to face the other man. Saying nothing, he waited for the expected onslaught. He wasn't disappointed.

"Doc, I don't know what this is all about, but I really don't have time for games right now other than the ones that brought us here." The man was bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet; energy was sparking through him. "You may not be a basketball fan; hell, with my luck you're UCLA fan – or a Michigan fan – who thinks it would be funny to screw us over by making DiNozzo sit here all night, but..."

"Coach – " Atterbury's voice was not loud, but it had a command presence of its own, well used to barking orders in surgery when needed. "Tony was my last patient of a very long night, and whenever we're done here I am going home. But that means I have no other patients to see right now, and no other schedule to meet. I can wait for you to get all the ranting out of your system, whether it's five minutes or fifty, because your kid out there needs you to calm down and listen to what I have to tell you."

For the first time since he'd arrived, the Coach seemed to connect with the gravity in Matt's voice and focus past the all the repercussions this night would create for the games ahead. Frustration still clearly pulling at him, jaw and fists clenching, he swallowed and finally nodded. "Alright," he breathed, "just tell me what the hell is going on."

Matt paused a moment to focus his explanation. "Tony came upon a residential fire and ran inside – he found a young boy and started bringing him out. The fire and smoke were already heavy, but he stopped for another child, taking some extra time inside to try to get her out, too." Matt saw the other man's face pale slightly, and saw, with some relief, the very moment that the upcoming basketball games were forgotten for the moment. "As he tried to get to her, part of the ceiling collapsed. The child was trapped ... and Tony had to leave her to get himself and the boy out before they all succumbed." -

Matt let the enormity of those images sink in for the moment before he went on. "Those extra moments ... he and the boy had even that much more exposure to smoke, and heat, and flames. They both suffered smoke inhalation and some burns – luckily, none of Tony's were worse than a mild second degree, and only a couple small ones. Most were first degree and will heal in a few days. I know you will be most concerned about those injuries for your game tomorrow, and I can talk with your trainer about them. But you need to know that right now, Tony's hurting a lot more from his inability to get out that boy's little sister."

The Coach's eyes shifted with sympathetic understanding, and Matt felt comforted to know that the man got it – especially with the rest of it. "And as if that weren't bad enough," the doctor went on, "the boy fought him, tooth and nail, to try to keep Tony from taking him out without getting to her. Tony has bruises and scratches where that kid did all he could to run right back into the fire for her – and Tony had to be the bad guy. I heard the kid myself when he was yelling that Tony wouldn't let him get his sister out – and no matter what the EMTs had to say to him, it looks like Tony believes that kid over all of them out there, who said they all would have died if he'd waited even twenty more seconds." Matt shook his head. "Coach – Tony needs someone he trusts to tell him what all of us already know – he saved a life tonight who would have died otherwise, ran into a burning building to save someone he'd never even met. He's a hero."

The coach again swallowed hard, quiet for several moments before he finally nodded, emotionally. "I gotta admit," he managed, "just when you think you know a kid ... he's a joker, doc, always goofing around on the outside, but he's solid, a hard worker. Always ready to bounce back for more." His eyes found the doctor's and he managed a shaken smile. "If you'd have asked, though, I probably would have said it's just what I would have expected of him."

Atterbury sighed, the coach's reaction relieving him of more tension than he knew he'd carried. "Look, we'll give him a care sheet, but as far as playing tomorrow and Monday is concerned, it's whatever he feels up to doing, as long as your trainer doesn't let him OD on the adrenaline of the moment to the point where he really goes beyond his limits. It will take him several days to a week for his burns to heal, and about the same for his lungs will clear out, but there really isn't a lot of risk playing through whatever he feels now. It's more the discomfort he'll have that will slow him down than the risk of any complications." The coach nodded, and Matt heard himself offer, "I'm off tomorrow and could be available Sunday and Monday, too. If you'd like me to come by and check him out. I would hate to have his good deed ruin this for him. From what I hear he was a big part of bringing your team this far."

"He was – he is."

"I'll give you my card, and your trainer can reach me or call me over as you like. Just ..." He sighed. "He seemed to see this whole thing as his failing, and in the circumstances, I can't think of anything further from the truth."

Akers sighed and, again after several moments of thought, nodded his understanding. "Thanks, doc – I appreciate it. And I appreciate you lookin' out for Tony – from what I have been able to learn, he hasn't had many people in his life doing that for him. I'll talk with him. What he did..." The coach shook his head in wonder. "Not many of us not in your profession can say they saved a life, Doc."

Matt finally offered a tired smile. "I think you just may have a chance to do something similar tonight, Coach." He tipped his chin up a bit at the man. "You ready to go see him now?"

"I think I am." The man in front of Matt now was a different man from the one who stormed in ten minutes before. "I'll get him back and we'll be in touch with you."

Finally relaxing into just how tired his long day had left him, Matt wheeled around to head to the door. As he reached for the handle, he remembered another matter he knew he should mention.

"Coach, look – Tony didn't know we called you. He thinks we're just calling him a cab." At the drawn brow, Matt went on, "he doesn't know that we know he's not just some OSU fan who came out for the game. He gave his name as Anthony Paddington." The doctor paused a moment to let the information sink in, then shrugged, "one of the med students working this shift recognized him – the ward clerk said she's a big basketball fan, has been going on about the Final Four being here this year. He was wearing an Ohio State sweatshirt, and she took one look at his face and said the chart was wrong. In the circumstances, we just didn't say anything, and just let him have his privacy."

The Coach was quiet for several moments, then mused, "oh, DiNozzo ..." He looked back to the doctor and offered, "you know, I usually meet the parents during recruiting, and see them come to at least some of the games. DiNozzo, though ..." he shrugged again. "No one. Guess he's almost more comfortable handling the hard stuff on his own."

Matt drew in a considering breath, and speculated, "or maybe he didn't want to mix this tragedy with all the hoopla about the games, to keep the two apart? The child he rescued lost his sister – and social services is checking now to see about his other family members. If others were in the fire we haven't heard yet. Tony's probably very aware that this tragedy may be even worse before the night is over. Not something easily mixed with the excitement of you and your teammates making it to the final four."

Akers considered and, realizing the truth in the doctor's words, snorted softly. "The media hype about one of the players saving a local kid – too much distraction even with a better outcome, but with the loss of the little girl ..." Akers sighed, "the ghouls would have a field day, and none of the kids on our team – on any team – would have an easy time with the press and other outside pressures if they got ahold of the story. And I bet that's all occurred to Tony 'Paddington' already." The coach shook his head in admiration. "Poor kid."

Without saying any more, his own concerns more settled as he was able to pass them along to the person best able to handle them for now, Matt opened the door for Akers and motioned him out toward the hall.

The men walked across to the other side of the department, not speaking. Passing the main trauma bay, they came toward an area of several large, private exam rooms, and Matt slowed near a door with the blinds of its large window pulled up.

Inside, Akers saw the familiar form of his point guard in a very unfamiliar posture: DiNozzo was sitting sideways on the exam table, back bowed, head down, the very image of defeat: he still wore his running shoes and jeans, but his own, warm OSU sweatshirt had been replaced with a thin scrub shirt provided by the hospital, and even from the hall the coach could see him shivering slightly. His hands and forehead were bandaged; his hair was singed in a couple places, and the exposed skin of his face and hands was mottled with scrapes and bruises. He was motionless and drawn in on himself, except for his left hand and forearm extended away from him as it rested on his thigh, gripping his singed and smudged sweatshirt.

"Aw, DiNozzo," the man murmured under his breath. Tony DiNozzo had worked his ass off to help get the team here – and with a thread of guilt for his selfish thoughts, no matter what his point guard had done for the local boy he saved, DiNozzo deserved a chance to enjoy the excitement of being in the Final Four without anything tarnishing it...

Akers pushed into the room, immediately hit with the strong scent of burned clothing and skin and hair, and his gut tightened a little – it suddenly seemed so much more real, and he wondered what in the world must be going through his player's head after it all. He wasn't any easier about it when the kid didn't even look up. After a couple more steps into the room, Akers said quietly, "hey, DiNozzo."

At the sound of his coach's voice, the young man's head snapped up in surprise. "Coach," he gulped, his voice rough and his expressive eyes carrying a mixture of guilt and despair, shining too brightly with sudden moisture. He clearly had not expected to see his coach, but couldn't even ask about why he was there. Akers rarely felt more needed by any of his players as he did at that moment.

With a quick appraising glance to be sure he wouldn't hurt the young man, Akers reached out to cup his hand around the back of DiNozzo's neck, squeezing warmly. "Hey, DiNozzo," he repeated, softly. "I hear you had a night, kid. How you feelin'?"

Tony seemed to find himself again with the contact, but not for the better. "I'm sorry, Coach," he whispered, as his eyes filled and tears shimmered at his lashes. When he didn't say more, Akers couldn't be sure if it was for sneaking away from their hotel, or for getting him involved – or for not saving them all.

"Nah, Tony, are you kidding me?" The coach pulled off his jacket and snaked it around the shivering form. "Those people out there are calling you a hero – and they save lives every day."

But DiNozzo was shaking his head adamantly. "But I didn't ... I couldn't get them both. Coach ..." One of the tears slipped out along the crease of his eye. "His little sister was only four, and I couldn't get to her..."

"You don't know that she was even still alive, Tony..."

"She was screaming, Coach!" The sound of his despair was as raw as the burns littering his brow where his hair had been singed back. "She was scared and she was screaming for help, and I had to leave her in there – and she knew we ... I ... was right there... " He gulped. "Her brother – Jason – he kept fighting to go back in, to try to get to her, but once the ceiling fell in, there wasn't any way to... to..." He couldn't finish.

Akers felt another clutch in his gut as he focused on the kid on front of him; he hadn't known the girl had still been alive, and he wondered if DiNozzo had told anyone here about that part yet. Raising his hand again to the back of the boy's neck and giving it another warm squeeze, the coach urged, "you can't save them all, Tony; you know that." He worked to make eye contact with his player. "You can't win every game. We didn't win every game but we're here. That little girl didn't make it, but her brother did – because of what you did. Son, you saved a life tonight!" And, the coach knew, he still couldn't see it. "Tony, listen to me." He fought to connect with the grieving young man. "You listening?"

With a shaky sigh, Tony nodded, silently.

"You know I was in the service, right? Army Ranger?" Another nod, so Akers went on, "we were trained for all kind of shit, and a lot of it involved being ready to go in, extract people, or to bring out wounded. We were drilled, non-stop, on all kinds of scenarios, by the best Uncle Sam had. But out there ... I saw a few of those guys hesitate, even back down, rather than go into danger like that. Months of training, and they couldn't do what you did. Or they make it into the danger zone, but if they're faced with a choice like the one you had to make..." The coach appraised his young player with a bit of awe. "DiNozzo, you did more on instinct tonight than a lot of professionals can do no matter how much training they get, and you bought that little boy a future. Maybe ... some day ... you'll understand just how extraordinary that is."

"I didn't really have a choice, Coach," Tony said softly.

"See, that's just it, DiNozzo. You saw that, and you knew what you had to do and did it. Look, I never had to run into a burning building or choice between one life or another, but you were put in both those positions and you didn't hesitate..."

"But I did," he protested, and the coach shook his head, with certainty.

"No – you tried looking for a way to get to her, but when that ceiling fell, you knew – didn't you?" At the silent, grudging, mournful nod, the coach smiled a soft smile of pride. "No hesitation," Akers just knew. "At the first sign it was hopeless for her, you did what you needed to do. DiNozzo," he urged, "that's extraordinary. And because of it, you saved a boy's life."

The coach watched as DiNozzo seemed to mull over his words, the shivering quieting a bit – whether it was his jacket or his words, the coach couldn't tell, but he hoped he was helping. With a tip of his head, the coach nodded toward the bandages, "burned your hands?"

It took a moment for Tony to come out of his thoughts, but blinked a little and looked up to his coach. "Huh? My...?" He looked down and seemed to remember, "oh – yeah. On the door knobs, and on a couple of the beams, I guess. Not too bad." He flexed his hands absently and didn't hide the resulting grimace too well.

Coach Akers nodded, then offered, "let's get you back to the hotel – unless you want to take a few more minutes..."

"No," Tony said quickly, sliding off the table. "Not in a hospital."

"I know, not the best place," his coach smiled again, "but look – once we get back there, you're in the middle of the Final Four again – the press is around and if they see us they'll be chomping to know where we were. Some of the team knew you were gone and I came after you; they're gonna bug you to know where you were. They're wound up and excited and can't wait to play. You earned your place here, Tony, and you were starting for me because of all the work you did this year. But a lot bigger things have happened tonight, and even if you want to play, you might not be ready for it so soon after..."

"I'm ready, Coach," he protested.

"And I know you'd do your best, I know that. But your lungs were full of smoke tonight and your system's still battling the carbon monoxide in that house. Your palms are burned. Let's ... let's give you the night and the morning to see how you feel, huh?"

Tony looked sick, suddenly. "On top of everything else ... I don't want this to screw things up for the team..."

"It won't – any more than if you got the flu."

"I don't want anyone to know about this, Coach," Tony said suddenly, "at least not 'til the games are done. We gotta focus, and all this stuff about the fire..." he shrugged, helplessly.

"Okay, if you want it that way, sure. Probably a good idea." Akers considered his guard. "Hey, we could tell people it is the flu or something – since it's you, maybe food poisoning, huh?" He was glad to see the tiniest smile from the younger man. "This is your call, Tony. You decide what you want to tell everyone, okay? You've earned at least that."

The kid nodded, then finally shrugged. "Thanks, coach. Let's go back now, okay?"

Coach Akers smiled and let his arm drape carefully around the younger man's shoulders. "You bet." Walking out toward the front, though, Tony hesitated, then stopped. After a moment, he met his coach's eyes. "I'd like to see him, see if he's doing alright, before I go – is that okay?"

The coach nodded, and followed several paces behind as DiNozzo went to the desk. As the coach came up he heard the nurse say "... finally sleeping. The social worker reached his mom, and she's expected anytime..." The woman looked at him kindly and asked, "do you want to go back and see him, before you leave?" At Tony's silent nod, she led the men back.

The nine year old was sleeping restlessly, brow still frowning deeply even in his sleep. His breathing, aided by oxygen through a nasal cannula, was slightly raspy. "He was affected more by the smoke than you were," the nurse explained softly. "Must have been a lot of smoke in the air before you got there. But he'll be fine, Tony," she assured him. "You did good."

Transfixed by the sleeping child, Tony reached a tentative hand up to the child's forehead, brushing it gently. "Maybe some day he can believe that too."

"He will," the nurse said without hesitation. "And you need to believe it, too."

Tony barely reacted to her words, but his gaze on the child softened a little, and after a moment, he stepped back. "Thank you," he offered to the nurse, who tipped her head toward the hall and followed the men out. She was reaching into a pocket as she came out behind them.

"Dr. Atterbury left this for you," she said to the coach as she pressed a business card into his hand. "He said to remind you he'll come over if you'd like a check up tomorrow. And you," the nurse smiled widely to Tony, then the coach, "both of you. Good luck this weekend. I think you managed to convert a whole lot of people here to root for the Buckeyes."

DiNozzo smile of thanks was a shy one, not at all like the usual boisterous man Akers knew. "C'mon, Tony, ya hungry? Let's get you back to the hotel, what'dya say?"

The lanky young man nodded again, and the two set off. The nurse watched the two as, stopping once more, the kid turned to his coach and said something about his jacket, trying to take it off; the older man shook his head, urging the younger one to keep it on, and in doing so helped snug it back up across his shoulders, letting his hand rest on the boy's shoulder and giving it a squeeze. With a soft smile to herself, content that their patient was in good hands, the nurse turned back with a sigh to consider their other fire victim of the evening. His young life had been far more upended this night than the basketball player's had, but thanks to the man's quick actions, he had a life ahead of him.

And no matter what happened on the basketball court over the next few days, she had no doubt whatsoever who the real MVP would be this year.

A/N: Twenty years ago, when this backstory was to have taken place, Ohio State's head coach was Randy Ayres. Between FFN's proscription against fic involving real people, and my lack of knowledge about the man and how he might really handle such an event, I changed the name and only suggest he might be man similar to Ohio State's head coach in 1992. Besides, no big surprise that it was all fiction in this episode: in 1992, the Ohio State Buckeyes made it to the Elite Eight but not the Final Four. Sorry, Tony.

It is fitting, though, that in the final game that year, played in Minneapolis (not Baltimore) in April (not March), Duke defeated Michigan, OSU's sworn enemy in Big Ten conference play, so you know DiNozzo was rooting for the Blue Devils. In a way, Duke was Ohio State's proxy that year, and went all the way.

DiNozzo would approve.

A/N #2: I don't usually reply publicly to reviews, but I had to reply to an anonymous one I got from BuckeyeGirl00000: I'll change the date of the story if you say the caption put the games in '91-'92; I didn't catch the caption you mention (newspaper caption, you mean?) but here ya go. And since in '91 the Final Four was actually in Indy, even better!

However, I do have a bone to pick with you: if you're a Buckeye fan, you may well be right about OSU and Michigan not rooting for Duke, so my suggestion that Tony would approve Duke beating Michigan may be all wet. But you're wrong when you say "no self-respecting BIG TEN fan would ever root for the Duke Blue Devils (even in the days of Christain Laitner (sic)) - even over the Wolverines" because we Hoosiers, at least back in the day - and most assuredly in this household - always switched to rooting for Coach K's team when the Hoosiers fell, no matter who they were playing. Some of us even like to think of Coach K as a Bobby Knight acolyte, although I realize the kid has gone on to make a bit of a career in coaching in his own right. (:}) I also realize I'm talking about another era here, but you mentioned Christian Laettner, presumably because he was the actual '91 MVP, and this game was only 4 years after IU was (again) national champion. So I stand behind my comments about other Big Ten fans of that era! And I like to think we have a reasonable amount of self respect around here! :D

Besides - if Duke were playing Purdue? No question. No question at all. (Go IU!)