Chapter Text
Hours later, Mike was sitting in a bank of chairs at Corpus Christi Medical Center, directly across from the triage areas. He heard a curtain screech along a rod and turned to see Probie leaving the area Tony was currently stationed in. In the brief flash before the curtain was pulled closed again, Mike saw the kid was hooked up to an IV and pressing a bag of ice against his bare chest with the arm in a sling.
“Just how much blood are they takin’?” he asked, holding out a spare coffee. “That's the fourth nurse I seen leave.”
Probie took a long pull of the drink, draining at least half of it. “He had the plague a couple years back—”
“Plague?” Mike blinked a few times until the words had sunk in. “Like rats and Dark Ages and shit?”
Probie nodded. “So now, we take any sort of injury that impacts his ability to breathe very seriously.”
Mike honed in on the we but left it alone. Probie had always had strong protective genes; it was clearly no different with this DiNozzo.
“Like the broken ribs.”
Probie nodded again.
“And all them machines?”
“He’s had a lot of injuries on the job. Especially hits to the head. We have to take those seriously too.”
Mike flinched internally. “He was telling me about all that woo-woo stuff to get let back in the field,” he said slowly. “Firearms requal. Fitness test.” He let out a breath. “They didn't do all that for us.”
Gibbs shook his head. “No, they didn't.” A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Probably should've. Especially after that case in Phoenix.”
“I was just fine,” Mike protested.
“You danced on a table and recited poetry. Not exactly your norm.”
“I was just. Fine,” Mike snapped.
Probie nodded but in a pacifying way. On reflex, Mike had reached over and slapped the back of Probie's now-silver head almost before his brain realized what his hand was doing.
Probie’s hand rose and Mike braced himself for some sort of retaliation, but Probie just rubbed his crown almost wistfully. “Been a long time since I’ve been on the receiving end of one of those.”
“More where that came from if you keep insultin’ my poetry.”
Probie grinned, this time wide and honest, but let the subject and his hand drop.
“DiNozzo gonna be okay?” Mike asked after a long moment.
“He knows better than not to be.”
“So we can get out of here?”
“As soon as they’re done running tests.”
“Which is?”
“Soon. You get yourself seen?”
Mike canted his chin at the red-stained scrap of shirt wrapped around Probie’s upper arm. “You first.”
“Bleedin’s stopped.”
“Mine too.”
Probie shot him an unimpressed look, reminding Mike just how much of a stubborn ass he could be. With a deep and equally pacifying sigh, he held up the middle three fingers of his good hand. “Let ‘em get the kid sorted first. I’ll have ‘em look before we go.”
Probie nodded as if to say “good”, but Mike wasn’t finished.
“So’s long as you promise to do the same?”
“It’s—”
“Both or none. Your choice.”
Probie glared at him. Mike returned it unflinchingly.
“Fine,” Probie ground out after a long moment. “But you first.”
“I accept.”
It was quiet then, Probie’s fingers beginning to tap at the coffee cup which Mike now realized was empty. That was never good.
“I’ll watch the kid. You get some more of that sludge you call coffee.”
Probie considered that for along minute, then stood. “You see him try to leave, you call me.”
“Will do.”
His former agent didn’t leave though, fingers tapping the cup with increased speed.
“Somethin’ on your mind, Probie?”
“I should have told you this a couple years ago, Mike, but—”
“Don't touch your kid again. Got it, Probie. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for what I done.”
“You tell him that?”
“I did. Didn’t believe me.”
Gibbs tilted his head toward Tony’s station.
“I will, Probie,” Mike said with exasperation. “Once the docs are through with him.”
“Or now.”
Realizing this was a losing battle, Mike rolled his eyes to high heaven then stood up. “Or now.” He made a shooing motion with his hands. “Go get your coffee. I got this.”
Mike waited until Probie was out of sight before pulling in a deep breath and tapping on the curtain.
“Kid?”
He heard a sharp inhale of breath, saw the outline of Tony shoot upright with a hiss. “Whaddya want, Franks?”
“See how you’re doing.”
“If Gibbs sent you, I’m fine.”
“He didn’t. I… I wanted to talk to ya.” He gently pulled the curtain aside, giving Tony plenty of time to retort. The kid didn’t, so Mike quickly stepped into the area and pulled the curtain back in place.
“You gonna be okay?” he asked, gesturing at the sheet Tony had pulled up over his torso.
“You really want to know?”
Mike nodded.
Looking somewhat surprised, Tony let out a long breath. “Always am.”
No surprise to Mike—it echoed what Probie had said earlier. “Glad to hear it.”
“Gibbs say when we can get out of here?”
“Once they’re done running tests.”
Tony’s smile dimmed slightly but didn’t disappear.
“You checked in on me, you can go now.”
“I don’t—”
“You should, Franks. Cos I’m plenty pissed at you for lying to me but I really don’t want to get into it now.” Tony was glancing around frantically, as if trying to signal the walls were thin, but Mike didn’t care. There were a grand total of three folks working, and he hadn’t seen any of them since the nurse had taken another vial of Tony’s blood twenty minutes ago.
“I had to get you out.”
“Franks—”
“There’s no one around, kid. Let’s just get into it.”
“Fine,” Tony snapped as he straightened up impossibly more. “It’s not your job to get me out. I’m the agent, not you. I get to make my own decisions. And I actively choose to not leave anyone behind.”
“What if that had been real intel?” Mike retorted. “Would you have risked it not getting back to D.C. just to save my life?”
“I would have found another way.”
“There wasn’t another way.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I did, kid. I saw what was going on. One or both of us weren’t going to make it out. I was more injured, moving slower. Getting you out gave us—gave me—a chance. Plus, it reduced any potential intel the Reynosas might get.”
“You should have given me the choice.”
“You wouldn’t have taken it. And, no offense, but I know who your boss is, and he scares me way more than you do.”
The fury in Tony’s expression died for about a second before he shook his head and snorted. “Yeah, I guess that’s about right.”
“It wasn’t personal. Just what we had to do to get the job done.”
Tony’s expression hardened. “Did we? The Reynosas are still out there. They went after Jackson—”
“Probie’s dad is in good hands.”
Tony quirked an eyebrow. “Yours?”
Franks scoffed. “I’m heading back south of the border. But I made some calls, especially now that Jackson is staying with Probie. They’ll be safe.”
After a moment, Tony nodded. “Thanks.” It looks like he spat out the word but the intention seemed good. Progress.
Franks returned the gesture, taking that time to prepare what he wanted to say next. The words seemed stuck in the back of his throat, but with a cough, he forced them out. “About what I done…”
“We just went over that,” Tony said icily, a note of warning tinging his tone.
“Not that. A couple years ago…” Mike gestured at the back of his head, as if that’d explain everything.
It must have, since Tony’s expression went positively stony. “We went over that too. You didn’t think it was a big deal—”
“I know. But I know now that it was. And I mean it this time when I say I’m sorry.”
Tony blinked. “Really?”
Mike nodded. “It wasn’t the same back then. No excuse, but I’m sorry I done it.”
Tony stared at him for a long time before nodding. “Okay.”
“It didn’t…” Mike trailed off again, not sure how to make his mouth ask what his brain wanted.
Tony shook his head. “No. Passed every evaluation with flying colors. Just kept me out of the field for a few days.” He looked down at his chest, no doubt seeing the bruises from the bullets through the sheet.
Mike could hear the unsaid, “Like this is gonna,” but didn't comment, giving the kid time to continue if he wanted.
“I’ll be fine,” Tony finally repeated. “Always am.”
“I have no doubt.”
He heard bustling behind him then, most likely signaling the chaplain was finally on his way. “Well, kid, this is where I take my leave—”
“Mike?”
The word was hard, sharp, and Mike paused, despite every fiber in his body telling him to run. “Yeah?”
“You do that again, I’ll lay you out and drag your ass to safety. I don’t leave people behind.”
Mike nodded. “You got it… Tony.”
“Good.” Tony tilted his head at the curtain. “You better go then, before Chaplain Richards finds you.”
Mike grinned and made his way out of the triage area, doubling back at the last second just in case the kid changed his mind and sent the Chaplain after him.
Gibbs, who had been standing in an adjacent doorway, waited until Mike was gone before stepping through the curtain.
“We done with all of Ducky’s tests yet?” Tony asked without looking up from the ice pack he was once again pressing against his ribs.
“Seem to be.”
Tony brightened. “So we can go?”
“As soon as the chaplain signs off on your flight home.”
Tony was on his feet in an instant. “Let’s find the guy then. I’m—”
Gibbs reached out just as quickly, keeping Tony from sliding his arm out of his sling. “Tony—”
“Please, Gibbs. I really just want to be back in D.C. for more than a few hours.”
Gibbs sighed then nodded. “You stay here. I’ll find him.”
Tony smiled widely, perching on the edge of his bed as he gestured for Gibbs to hurry it along.
Needless to say, Gibbs was surprised then to hear a soft, “Boss?” just before he parted the curtain.
He turned, finding Tony still, almost statuesque, staring intently at the floor.
“How was Ziva? I mean, at her ceremony. I wanted to be there, but I had orders.”
“Dunno.”
Tony blinked. “What do you mean you don’t know?” He looked up at Gibbs, his expression sharpening instantly. “You weren’t there either. Why?”
“Hart paid me a visit.”
“What did she want?”
“We don’t have to worry about her anymore.”
“We don’t?” Tony blinked again. “She’s just walking away? Why?”
Gibbs shrugged. “I get the feeling she realized she backed the wrong man.”
“Bell was definitely not the most stand-up guy.” Tony shook his head, quick and violent, like a wet dog. It can’t have done his head any good. “Is it wrong if this seems too simple?”
“Rule 11.”
Tony let out a long breath between gritted teeth. “It’s not over,” he ground out, giving Gibbs the impression he’d had this conversation already. “The Reynosas are still out there. They’re still after you—”
“We’re better off than we were a couple days ago, and we’re all still here. We gotta take the win.”
“Not much of a win, boss.”
“It’s a start. We recoup, heal up—” he tilted his head at Tony “—and get ready for whatever comes next.”
Tony looked like he had more to say, and Gibbs braced for it, but eventually all that came out was, “Franks said Jackson was staying with you?”
Gibbs nodded. “With a protection detail from Vance.”
“Good.”
Gibbs waited for Tony to elaborate, but that seemed to be the end of the conversation. He tilted his head at the curtain. “Should I go get the chaplain?”
“God, yes. There’s no place like home.”
“I’m not clicking my slippers for you, DiNozzo.”
Tony grabbed at his heart and pretended to fall backward in surprise. “You understood one of my references. Now I know the world is ending.” He let that lie for about a second before continuing, “Did you know the slippers were actually supposed to be silver but they changed them to red for the movie because—”
Gibbs grinned, wide and honest, as he stepped out of the curtain and closed it behind him, Tony showing no signs of dying down. It was only a beat later that he spoke up again. “Tony?”
“Yeah, boss?”
“Good job.”
“Not sure about what, but thanks, boss.”
Gibbs turned to fully face the curtain, watching as Tony’s outline deflated slightly with a heavy sigh. “Accepting the good job gratefully, boss.”
After nodding once, Gibbs set off to find the chaplain to check them all over so they could finally, finally, go home.