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Gibbs scraped two over medium eggs onto a plate where two pieces of toast and a few strips of bacon were already waiting. It wasn’t quite the breakfast that he would prefer, but it was Tuesday, and they had the same breakfast every Tuesday before Tony went to his day center.
The day center had been his physical therapist’s idea. Gibbs had been weary about the idea, worried that Tony would take it as an insult that he was to spend less time with everyone. Luckily, Tony had flocked to it and even made a few friends that he practiced life skills with. One in particular went by Mo that had Angleman Syndrome. Tony spoke of him often, and Gibbs even had a chance to meet him. Sometimes Mo was the one thing that Gibbs coax Tony into going to the day center for.
Suddenly, a light thump sounded from down the hall. Alarm pulsed through Gibbs as he immediately switched off the burner he used for the eggs and darted down the hallway.
“Tony,” Gibbs called, rounding the corner into Tony’s bedroom—formally his bedroom.
The space was empty, bed covers thrown back and a picture book open where Tony had laid. Finding the bed empty wasn’t exactly unheard of as Tony scraped for as much independence as he could muster. However, it didn’t make Gibbs feel any less worried.
A soft grunt echoed from the bathroom with Gibbs immediately heading in that direction. He opened the bathroom door without even hesitating.
“B-Boss,” Tony slurred as he lifted his head, right side of his face drooping even further the more that he spoke. “M’in the ba-bathroom.”
Gibbs stifled a sigh. “I heard something fall.”
Tony tipped his head down to glance at the bathtub. Gibbs squeezed in beside the skinnier man, craning his neck to see what he dropped. In the center of the stark white tub sat an electric razor. It was Gibbs’s own as Tony’s OT had stated that Tony’s hands were too unsteady for him to use such a thing on his own. Apparently Tony hadn’t agreed.
“Tony,” Gibbs began with the disappointed note in his voice that he knew Tony responded to.
Tony purposely looked anywhere except in Gibbs’s direction as the older man stooped down to pick up the razor. “I can do it….myself,” Tony replied, taking his time sounding out each word.
Gibbs set the razor on the edge of the sink before thinking better of it. He picked it right back up and tucked it back into the bathroom closet. “We don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
“Hurt,” Tony chirped.
Gibbs nodded. Tony had a fear of being hurt. Gibbs didn’t have the heart to tell him that after a traumatic brain injury, surgery, coma, subsequent stroke, and another major brain surgery that a small nick from a razor wouldn’t be life threatening. Still, if it meant keeping Tony safe, that was exactly what Gibbs was going to do.
“Yes. My razor is stronger than yours. Remember you have to ask before you shave.”
Tony gazed at him imploringly. “I forgot.”
“It’s alright,” Gibbs chided as he drew a hand over his face. “Just finish up here and I’ll grab your clothes. Breakfast is ready when you are.”
“Then leave,” Tony yelled.
Gibbs shook his head as he pointed to a visual schedule that he kept in the bathroom, which was just one of many. Getting Tony to acknowledge it and follow it were two very different problems.
“Breakfast then…..”
Tony stared a good amount of time at the visual schedule that was hung besides his hand washing and teeth brushing routine. Reading wasn’t something Tony had been able to regain, but he could follow pictures and pick up on patterns in a way that Gibbs could never have ever dreamt of.
“Shoes!”
“You’re right, Tony. Shoes and then we can leave with your backpack. Do you need any help in here?” Tony was certainly better than when he left the rehabilitation hospital, though he sometimes needed more assistance than he realized or accepted without prompting.
Tony lifted a shaky hand and pressed it to the side of his face. A short line of stubble had begun to sprout, thick and dark thanks to his Italian heritage. It was hardly much in Gibbs’s opinion, though for Tony, who preferred to be clean shaven, it was possible sensory hell. Tony let out a frustrated whimper at the feel, hands inching up to slap either side of his skull.
“We’ll have none of that.” Gibbs intercepted the movement with speed and precision. He gave each wrist a shake to defer Tony’s attention to him. “If you want something, you have to ask. You need to ask with words.”
Whatever semblance of understanding Tony had earlier seemed to disappear. He caught Gibbs’s eye with that look that Gibbs knew only too well. A moment later, his foot shot out and connected hard with Gibbs’s knee, almost causing the older man to buckle in surprise. Teeth gritted, Gibbs managed to maneuver Tony over to the closed seat of the toilet. It took some pushing on Tony’s shoulders, followed by lightly pulling out his legs from under him before Tony sat with his hands still gripped by his Boss.
“Let’s not start out doing that this morning. Do you think Miss Clark is going to want to hear you were kicking again?” Although Gibbs hated to use Tony’s favorite teacher at his day center to his advantage, he would often try anything to halt these aggressive behaviors. They were happening less and less the more that Tony attended therapy. However, when something unexpected or upsetting happened, Tony would automatically resort to physical shows of distain against Gibbs or himself depending on what was easier.
When Tony pulled his hands from Gibbs with no signs of lashing back out, Gibbs finally drew back. “Let’s see what we have going here, alright?”
Tony tipped his head back expectantly, jaw going slack as Gibbs brushed the rough center of his thumb along Tony’s stubble. Ordinarily it wouldn’t be something that Gibbs would worry about, but if it bothered Tony, he would be sure to take care of it.
“We’re going to do this quick,” Gibbs announced as he wet his hands in the sink and grabbed a small can of shaving cream he kept on the edge of the vanity. Lathering up his hands, he transferred as much as he could to Tony’s face, careful to keep it away from his lips. Half of his face was still greatly effected by his stroke, taking much feeling with it. Accidentally ingesting shaving cream thanks to his lax features was not something that Gibbs wanted to add to their list of unfortunate occurrences.
Instinctively, Tony’s hands reached up to touch his face. Luckily, Gibbs was quicker and wrapped a towel around Tony’s upper body, trapping his arms beneath it. Tony didn’t even attempt to pull his arms free, and Gibbs remembered hearing from one of Tony’s physical therapists that Tony’s brain often didn’t register resistance the same way anymore, so if something was placed on or around him, he wouldn’t move it even if it seemed relative simple to do so.
Once Tony was bundled, Gibbs wet his electric razor and got to work. Smooth, steady strokes of the razor left streaks of smooth skin in its wake. Tony hardly reacted even once Gibbs wet the razor and trailed the sharp blade on the other side of Tony’s jaw, careful around his scars. Moving to his upper lip brought a little more of a challenge thanks to his partial facial droopiness. Gibbs kept a steady hand just as he would do with everything else, hardly uttering a sound.
A wet towel mopped up the remaining evidence from Tony’s face. “That better,” Gibbs questioned as he twisted Tony’s body so he could gaze at himself in the mirror.
The moment Tony’s eyes locked with his own in the mirror, and a smile appeared across his face. That was the look that Gibbs lived for, one that he always feared he would never see again. The highs could be so high with the lows just as devastating, especially lately.
“C’mon, let’s get you up.”
Tony started to scramble to his feet with Gibbs aiding him. Unsteady footsteps greeted Tony, forcing Gibbs to keep his grip tight on the former NCIS agent. He could manage short distances without much trouble, but Gibbs never liked to leave Tony for long periods of time in case he grew unsteady. Falls were quite common, and they had already experienced their fair share, far more than Gibbs would’ve liked to see.
Taking it a few fearful steps at at a time, by the time that they made it to the kitchen, Tony was exhausted. His right leg trailed uselessly behind him the more tired he became, and Gibbs had to nudge Tony’s foot with his own to instruct him to move it.
“Good steps,” Gibbs encouraged when Tony finally took a seat. “It’s getting better. We’ll have to tell Dr. Maggie.”
Tony smacked his lips together as he stretched out a highly atrophied hand in the direction of the breakfast plates. It was clear after the hustle of the morning that his speech was starting to disappear. While Gibbs knew that he could speak in broken sentences at times, he was not only self-conscious, but it took a massive effort. They were working on it, and although Tony’s doctors told Gibbs to push Tony to speak more, Gibbs knew how difficult it was for him and didn’t always have the heart to force him to do something he wasn’t feeling up to do.
Gibbs grabbed the two plates of food and carried them over to the table. He set his own plate down, but his attention was always on Tony. As he went to sit, Gibbs hooked his foot against the leg of Tony’s chair and pulled him the rest of the way forward so that he was right against the table. They had learned from prior experience that more food actually made it into Tony’s mouth the closer he was to the table.
“We have our eggs, bacon, and toast. Breakfast of champions right here.” Gibbs tapped Tony’s fork three times on the edge of the plate, sliding back to cut a tiny slice of egg and equal amount of toast. Once it was secured on the tip of the fork, Gibbs lifted it up to Tony’s mouth. Tony hesitated briefly before opening his mouth and taking the bite as it was offered to him.
Gibbs watched as Tony chewed and swallowed fully before offering him a piece of bacon.
If someone would’ve told him five years ago that he would be feeding his Senior Field Agent like this, he would’ve called them crazy. Now he couldn’t imagine life any other way. Although Tony could feed himself to a certain extent, most of it would end up on his lap or shirt instead of his mouth. The risk of overstuffing and choking was also high on Gibbs’s list of concern. It had happened quite a few times when Tony was able to feed himself, so this way saved him the worry as well at the mess he had to clean up. Was that the right decision? Gibbs would never be able to truly know.
Gibbs managed to steal a few bites from his own plate in between feeding Tony his own breakfast. Tony rocked at his seat eagerly, letting out happy noises. It was a whole new language that Gibbs was having to learn on the fly. Grunts and points meant just as much as broken and slurred words. This was a whole new world that they had been thrust in without warning and now were expected to swim instead of sink.
“All…..’one,” Tony announced once the breakfast was finished and Gibbs wiped his face.
Gibbs dipped his head in agreement. “All done,” he repeated, half hoping that Tony would repeat with more enunciation if he heard him say it first. Tony didn’t pick up on the hint, merely pushed off weakly from his chair and stumbled forward, already halfway to the door by the time Gibbs placed their plates on his coffee cup in the sink.
The doorknob wiggled, Gibbs whipping around instantly. “Tony!”
Tony halted abruptly, eyes roving upwards. He took a few steps back and closed the door in front of him.
Gibbs swore under his breath and wiped his hands on his pants. Two steps brought him over to the former agent where he stood in front of him, eyes set in a harsh glare. “We don’t leave the house alone. Ever!”
“Fire?”
Gibbs blinked hard. “What?”
“W’bout fire,” Tony mumbled, words almost impossible to distinguish.
The momentary anger that flared within Gibbs finally began to extinguish. Shoulders slumping, Gibbs reached out to pat Tony’s shoulder. “Okay, Tony, yes only if there’s a fire. But is there a fire now?”
Tony’s neck tipped from one side to the other in a rolling motion, taking a moment to contemplate the question Gibbs posed to him. His cognitive functioning was something they were still working on, and although patience wasn’t Gibbs’s best virtue, he was working on it.
“No.” Tony took a step forward and poked at Gibbs’s slightly growing gut. “In ‘ere.”
“You think I have a fire in my stomach?” Upon seeing the twinkle in Tony’s dark gaze, Gibbs’s agitation faded like mist.
Sometimes, glimpses of Tony’s previous self shone through. It was always random in a way that Gibbs couldn’t understand. Usually it correlated with Tony’s humor, which made it impossible for Gibbs to feel anything but nostalgic for these fleeting moments.
“You’re not wrong, buddy. Don’t you ever change.” Gibbs ran his fingers through Tony’s hair to smooth it, realizing he forgot to make sure that Tony brushed it. That could be a later problem. “Okay, let’s get your shoes on and get in the car.”
“Mo?”
Gibbs kneeled down and lifted one of Tony’s Billy shoes that fastened over the braces that Tony had to wear for eighteen hours a day. He hated sleeping in them, but they helped his tremors and prevented trips, so Gibbs did what he could to make sure that Tony couldn’t take them off without him knowing. Normally he would have Tony sit for this process, but when Tony was down, it was difficult to get him up.
He gave a strong pat to Tony’s calf to signal that he was ready, struggling to his own feet with his back twitching in distain. Logic told him that he was far too old to be doing this much kneeling down and heavy lifting. However, he would do this and more if it meant that Tony was kept safe and well cared for. His own wellbeing was a small price to pay if that meant that Tony remained unhurt.
This time Tony waited patiently at the door for Gibbs to gather what little belongings that he needed. Keys, wallet, phone, and coffee was pretty much the extent of it. He was glad that he already did all of his morning routine before he woke Tony, knowing that it would be nearly impossible once Tony was ready to go. It was also the same reason that he would dress Tony first thing and let him lay in bed a little longer, just so that if Tony did elope from the house, he would at least be in a fresh set of clothes that may not alert or warrant a phone call to the police.
Gibbs took Tony by the elbow and stepped out into the chilly air. Today was going to be a good day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Today, was in fact, not a good day.
Gibbs had hardly been at work four hours when Tony’s day center called. They had filled Gibbs in quickly, that Tony had gotten agitated and had an accident that involved a window. That was all Gibbs heard before he was tossing the van keys to McGee and racing from the building without any sort of explanation. Vance could tear him a new one later; right now Tony was his top priority.
He broke quite a few traffic laws if he was being honest with himself, brain on autopilot as he drove to the all too familiar day center. His entire life he had passed it on the way to work and didn’t even realize it was there. Now that part of Tony’s life was spent there, Gibbs couldn’t imagine what he would do without a safe and secure place for him to bring Tony to while he still tried to keep a roof over their head.
Gibbs came to a screeching halt in one of the handicap parking spots, feet out the door even almost before he pulled the keys from the ignition. Strength coursed through his muscles as he shouldered the car door closed and raced into the day center. The door jingled as it always did, though Gibbs paid it no mind as he craned his neck over the receptionist’s desk when he found it empty.
“Tony,” Gibbs started, patience wearing thin.
“Mr. Gibbs?”
Gibbs turned to the hallway, too worried about Tony to correct her. She wasn’t one of Tony’s normal aids, and from the frantic look on her face, she was perhaps even more flustered than Gibbs himself was.
“Where’s Tony,” Gibbs practically snarled.
The young woman let out a squeak and jumped back. “H-He’s this way,” she stuttered. “He was just eating his snack and—“
“Agent Gibbs?”
Relief washed over Gibbs as one of Tony’s regular aids jogged up. She rested her hands on the first woman’s shoulders, steering her away from Gibbs. “I’ll take things from here, Nancy. Can you please make sure everyone else is ready for lunch?”
Nancy dipped her head and scurried off just as quickly as she came.
“Sorry,” the aid apologized with a roll of her eyes. “She means well, but she’s new. Doesn’t know everybody yet and they don’t know here.”
Normally Gibbs could at least pretend that he was listening to this sort of idle talk, but when his charge was in trouble, there was nothing he could do besides worry. “Chelsea, where’s Tony?”
Chelsea shook her head to clear it, hand giving a short way to beckon him after her. “One of our nurses is with him,” she explained on the way with Gibbs attempting to force himself to slow so not to overtake her. His entire body itched with the desire to race through the entire facility until he found Tony.
Thankfully, the soft sound of Tony’s cries was something that Gibbs had learned to become hyper aware of. He turned into a white room with an examination bed to find Tony sitting at the foot, a nurse kneeled beside him as she used tweezers to pick out tiny pieces of glass from Tony’s outstretched hand. Tony whimpered and flinched away from her touch, tears freely flowing down his cheeks.
“Boss,” Tony blubbered once he caught sight of Gibbs in the doorway.
Gibbs darted forward, coming to sit beside Tony. The dark haired man slumped forward with his head pressed against Gibbs’s chest. His entire body trembled, breath coming in short pants.
“What happened,” Gibbs asked scathingly to the two other woman in the room.
“Tony became agitated when Mo had to leave early,” Chelsea explained with a glance to the nurse. “We attempted some breathing exercises and offered a break. Tony agreed to go to the bathroom and zoned in on the window.”
“His injuries are minor,” the nurse pipped in, continuing to remove the tiny slivers of glass. “Some minor bruising and cuts, but he’ll be fine.”
Tony curled closer to Gibbs, wrapping his uninjured arm around his boss’s middle. Gibbs returned the gesture, whispering soft reassurances in his ear. Normally he would never allow outsiders to see him be this affectionate with anyone, but this was Tony, and he’d break all the rules just for him.
“You’re going to be fine,” Gibbs reassured, noticing for the first time a black and blue bruise that was forming at the crown of Tony’s head.
Chelsea offered a kind smile. “We’ve already documented this incident, but you’re more than welcome to speak to the coordinator if you’d like.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Unfortunately, this wasn’t Tony’s first time that Gibbs needed to drop everything because of an illness or injury. Things were getting better, that was for certain, yet these occurrences still happened more than Gibbs liked. Tony’s traumatic brain injury could alter his judgement and self control, which meant these outbursts were prone to happen even over seeming inconsequential things. Gibbs would take it all away from Tony in a moment if he could, and yet he knew that would never be a possibility. “I just want to take him home once he’s cleaned up.”
Although Tony didn’t appear comforted by that idea, the nurse nodded in agreement. “We’re almost finished. Ice the bruises if they become too painful and keep his hand clean once you remove the bandage tomorrow.”
Gibbs had received so many different instructions from so many doctors that he was able to compartmentalize the information easier than anything else. He could follow these directions perfectly, once he knew that they would make things more tolerable for the former NCIS agent.
“Tony,” Gibbs encouraged as he nudged Tony’s shoulder lightly with his head. “Can you look at me?”
After a few more moments, Tony pulled himself away from Gibbs, fixing him with a wretched gaze. “We’re going to go home soon,” he told him slowly. “And then later we’re going to talk about this.”
Tony didn’t appear to listen to the final part. Instead, he ripped his hand from the nurse with a sudden yelp.
“There’s one more piece,” the nurse explained. “It’s wedged right up in your palm.”
Tony made a clumsy move to stand until Gibbs managed to wrangle him back in a sitting position. Tony momentarily fought against him, back arching, until he realized it was Gibbs who had ahold of him. Although less than thrilled, he slumped back into Gibbs’s hold as the nurse gripped the final shard of glass tight and pulled it free. She applied pressure right away before wrapping the wound as Tony’s demeanor changed until he appeared listless and overly compliant.
The nurse continued to bandage Tony’s arm, shooting a worried look to Gibbs. “Is he like this often?”
“Sometimes,” Gibbs replied as he threaded his fingers through Tony’s now messy hair. “It comes and goes. Usually he’s jumping off the walls and unbelievably happy.”
“TBIs can cause these massive mood swings, sometimes for no reason at all. It can be a difficult journey.” The nurse gave a brief pause as if wanting her words to sink in. “Especially for the caregivers.”
Gibbs felt himself instantly bristle. No one knew what it was like to truly care for Tony like he did. That being said, he wouldn’t trade it for anything. If he could’ve saved Tony from this fate, he would’ve, but since he couldn’t, he could only take care and support him no matter what. He didn’t care what they had to go through so long as he gave Tony the life that he earned and deserved.
“We’re fine,” Gibbs told her stiffly.
“It’s good that he has you. Not everyone here is that lucky.”
Gibbs had heard the stories of so many of Tony’s fellow disabled adults. They could become lost in the system, or when their family members have passed on. He had heard plenty of their stories from the aids or Tony himself in what gestures he could. His heart ached for them, and briefly wondered what would happen to Tony if and when something happened to him. Although he hated to think about it, he wouldn’t be around forever and he would need a contingency plan for when that happened.
‘Nonsense,’ Gibbs scolded himself. ‘There are plenty of people that would take Tony in.’
Wasn’t there?
Gibbs knew that he would work himself into circles if he continued down that path. They could plan as much as they could for the future while still focusing on the present, and right now Tony needed to go home.
“Come on,” Gibbs told Tony after a bit. The nurse had handed him an icepack for his hand, though Tony seemed to enjoy it more pressed against the numb side of his face, sniffling as he finally seemed to calm down.
Tony looked to both the nurse and the aid before starting to rise to his feet. His left foot slipped, and he would’ve fallen if Gibbs didn’t have lightning fast reflexes. Gibbs caught him as he was standing, hoisting Tony to his full height and holding on tight until Tony was able to register his footing under him.
“You alright?”
Tony squinted in Gibbs’s direction, face blossoming as a giant smile spread across his face. A thin stream of saliva dribbled from the corner of his mouth, though Gibbs was quick to use his folded handkerchief from his jacket pocket to dry it for him.
Thanks to the bruise on Tony’s head, Gibbs made sure to keep closer to Tony than he would have in case the other man stumbled. Although staggering, he walked with as much confidence as ever. The rehabilitation facility had worked on walking more than anything, as that had been Tony’s and Gibbs’s greatest goal. If Tony was able to maneuver himself around, however abruptly, he would always have some sort of independence. Despite his injury, Gibbs knew that Tony didn’t want to have to rely on him for everything. That NCIS agent was still somewhere in there, even if Gibbs feared he may have to dig to find him.
After signing Tony out, Gibbs walked him down the ramp towards the car. Tony said nothing, merely tottering around and looking up at the sky every few moments. He pointed weakly at a few dark clouds as they rolled in, gulping fiercely when he swiveled his head to look at his caretaker.
“Looks like rain,” Gibbs clarified. “Very good.”
Tony’s chest puffed out at pride, though he would’ve missed the car if Gibbs hadn’t reached back to his shoulder to halt him. A car suddenly whizzed past in front of them, much quicker than they should’ve been for a parking lot. Tony jumped back, almost plowing Gibbs right over.
“That’s why we always have to look. We don’t want you getting hurt.”
Tony lifted his injured hand and waved it frantically in Gibbs’s face as Gibbs unlocked the back door. “Hurt,” Tony mumbled emphatically.
“That’s right.” Gibbs opened the door fully and helped Tony scramble into his seat. “And don’t think we’re not going to talk about this when we get home.” Gibbs pulled the seatbelt around Tony’s body, looping it around a special clip that would keep Tony from accidentally undoing his seatbelt when they were driving. “Because we can’t have you hurting yourself or others just because you’re angry. Do you understand me?”
Tony’s eyes roved around the car, never settling on one spot for more than a couple seconds. He looked to Gibbs once before pulling towards the window, making sounds that Gibbs couldn’t make out.
“Do you understand me,” Gibbs whispered, half to himself.
When Tony kicked his legs against the seat in front of him excitedly, Gibbs felt his entire soul deflate. Maybe Tony actually didn’t know or understand what Gibbs was even asking of him. That was a reality that they may have to face.
“Okay, Tony.” Gibbs rubbed the top of Tony’s unruly hair one more time before stepping down and closing the door behind him. He climbed into the driver’s side and buckled, starting the ignition with fingers splayed over the wheel, gripping tightly until his knuckles turned white.
“Boss?”
Gibbs twisted in his head to look over his shoulder. “Yeah?”
“Fa—ult.”
Gibbs furrowed his brow. “What?”
“Fau….lt,” Tony attempted again, slurred words starting to come together slightly.
“Fault? Who’s fault, pal?”
Tony grew suddenly serious in a way that Gibbs hadn’t seen since his accident. He met his gaze intently, like he had once done when they were agents and coworkers. “Not…your fault—B’oss.”
Something felt like it shattered in Gibbs’s chest when he heard those words. His mouth went dry, and try as he might, he couldn’t even begin to formulate a response to what Tony had just said. Memories came rushing to the surface of not just Tony’s accident, but Shanon’s and Kelly’s as well. All lives that had ended or were devastated because of him. It was all his fault and he knew it.
Before Tony could see him, Gibbs drew the back of his hand over his eyes to dry them. He gave his throat a harsh clearing as he faced forward. “Hey, what about some ice cream?”
Tony immediately brightened, back to his new self. He let out an excited squeal and kicked his legs against the back of Gibbs’s seat. The pain from whatever happened at the day center seemed to fade as soon as ice cream was mentioned.
Tony would never be the man that he was before that fateful day, but Gibbs would never give up on him. He still had a full life to live, and Gibbs was going to make sure that he did just that.