Chapter Text
Tony's Monday
"Talk to me, McGee..."
Ziva's voice at his side was low, slightly urgent, and it was easy to tell she was getting tense. Five endless minutes of sneaking through piled-up boxes and crates that smelled rank with mould, with no other sound meeting them except the scuttle of rats and their own careful footsteps. It began tearing at his nerves, too, and he had to bite his lip to keep from cracking bad jokes to lighten the mood.
Tony felt his attention begin to waver. He fell back a step or two, sneaking glances into the dark corners they had passed to double-check. There was only so much adrenaline could do, and his high was beginning to fade rapidly.
He blinked and tried to look past the shadows. Why did this have to be such a damn good hiding place for whatever usually lurked in the dark? He took a few shallow breaths of rank air and watched the dust twirl and sparkle lazily in the few beams of early spring sunlight coming through the threadbare roof.
He watched Ziva's back as she stepped through a pool of light, with the sun playing across her bare neck. She had pulled her hair into a tight knot, but one strand had come loose to brush her neck and was moving in time with her slow, steady breathing. He wanted to reach out and tuck it back in so it wouldn't distract her, and then he shook his head because who was getting sidetracked here?
"Still no sign of them, sorry, Ziva." McGee's voice, scratchy over the transmission, made Tony jump, and he saw Ziva glance back at him, with a smile and a wink, and yeah, he had to roll his eyes at that because it was expected.
"How are those heat traces coming along?" she asked in a low voice, and the sound of McGee's fingers tapping away on his keyboard translated even over the earwig.
"None inside the building, except yours. This is... wait a minute."
They both tensed at the way he suddenly sounded distracted, and Tony flexed his fingers to get a better grip on his Sig. Ziva met his gaze over her shoulder again, did a soundless little twirl with her hand, and he nodded.
"Guys? Get out of there, fast!" McGee's voice, so urgent and distressed all of a sudden. This time it made them both jump.
"Which way, Probie? We're in the middle of boxing wonderland!" Tony hissed.
"Continue straight ahead, then go left on the next turn you reach," McGee instructed, and they started to run. "It's a setup, Daften and his suppliers aren't there. But Metro police are getting ready to take down the warehouse right now, and from what I picked up, they're in a mean mood."
"Dead end, McGee," Ziva interrupted him, and the Probie cursed so colorful it made Tony raise an eyebrow. Ziva chuckled at his expression and turned back to where they had come from.
"Okay, back the last two turns and then go left."
Tony started running again, Ziva right on his six. "Talk to Metro, for God's sake! Tell them we're in here."
"What do you think I'm trying to... no, not that way! The other left!" McGee's voice went an anxious octave higher just as Ziva went around the corner.
That was also the moment Tony heard the sound of shattering glass and something going dink-dink-dink on top of one pile of boxes. And then the world exploded into brightness and the stinging pain-sound of a stun grenade, and he knew that he was yelling Ziva's name because his throat felt raw even though he couldn't hear his own voice.
He shook his head and tried to lose the sudden dizziness, but it was hard with his eyes watering like mad and his hearing wrapped in cotton fluff. "Ziva!" he screamed again, and this time his ears popped, just in time to hear loud orders and McGee in his ear and heavy weapons being pointed hurriedly. "Federal agents!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, grabbing his badge frantically while he went around the corner. "Don't shoot! NCIS!"
Angry soldier voices barked at him to lose the gun, and he obeyed, repeated his identification mantra and held up his badge high while he blinked, looking for Ziva. His ears hurt, and his eyes stung, and when he raised a hand to wipe the involuntary tears away, he saw her lying on the ground. And just like that, there was a different kind of pain tearing at him.
"Ziva!" He started to run to her and met a gun pointed at his face, and he didn't care enough, just shouted angrily "That is my partner, you moron!" and pushed the man aside.
He went down to his knees beside her, grabbed her shoulder, and she moaned, thank God, she was alright, yes, of course she was, she was Wonder Woman's tiny Israeli stepsister, after all. He said her name again and touched her cheek to make her look at him, and she flinched at the unexpected contact and tried to fend it off.
"Ziva, it's me, you're alright!"
He kept talking to her, hoping that she could hear at least a tiny bit of his nonsense despite the flashbang that had caught her smack dab in the middle. McGee kept distracting him with silly questions like if they were alright, and finally he pulled the earwig out and dropped it to concentrate on his partner, on the ground.
It took about a minute of babbling mindless reassurances until she gasped and grabbed his hand hard.
"Tony?"
And he said yes and touched her cheek again, and when she turned her head his way, he cursed violently because there were burn marks and fresh rashes on the right side of her face.
"Get an ambulance!" he yelled at the guy next to him, and the volatile anger in Tony's voice made the man run, his face pale.
*** *** ***
When he finally had the chance to get away from the scene and the inquiries and all the damned statements that had to be taken, it was getting dark, and he was tired and confused and had the feeling of a big rock lodged in his stomach.
Ziva's hospital room was only dimly lit, and the first thing Tony saw when a nurse pointed him to it was Gibbs, standing vigil outside the room and staring through the observation window silently. His steps slowed with every one he took, and he felt hesitation tug at his heart. He should have been with her, not McGee. He should have kept shouting at the LEOs until he could ride along with his partner.
"How is she?" he asked, and Gibbs just sighed without turning his head.
"Blind."
Breathing was hard all of a sudden.
"What?" he pressed out. So that was what color draining from one's face felt like.
"Flashbang caught her almost right in the face, so her eyes took some damage."
"Temporary, right?" His voice didn't seem to work like it should, and he had to fight the urge to keep repeating his last word. Right? She'll be alright, right, dad? Please make her alright again! He took a carefully controlled breath and pushed the old pain away. Tried to ignore the sudden roaring wave of his pulse crashing against his ear drums while he waited for an answer.
And then Gibbs did the unthinkable and just shrugged, and Tony's hands clenched into fists.
He turned his head and stared at the small woman in the hospital bed that was really too big for her. She seemed asleep but she could have just as well been drugged up to her ears. There were gauze pads bandaged over her eyes so she wouldn't try too hard to make them work again, and hell, he knew that his own personal Sydney Bristow had been trying hard for sure. He fought the urge to climb into bed with her and wrap his arms around her until she woke up again and everything was fine.
"How is she taking it?" he heard himself ask from too far away. Inside the room, Abby reached across the crisp sheets, took Ziva's hand and held it tightly. Good thing Zi had someone around who could show sympathy.
At his side, Gibbs raised a hand to rub his tense neck.
"Like she always does. Didn't happen."
Tony took another deep breath, and while he raised a hand himself to run it over his tired eyes, he heard McGee-steps in new shoes come up behind his back.
"I wish I hadn't sent you that way," the Probie muttered while he handed Gibbs a fresh cup of coffee, and Tony had to fight not to clench his teeth. "I should have paid more attention."
He didn't want to hear this right now. He was too tired and too much lost in his own to deal with McGee's guilt now. But since this was part of his job and of his friendship, too, he sighed and patted the man's shoulder.
"Not your fault, Probie." He felt the hard, involuntary shudder underneath his hand and turned to stare at his partner. "Timmy. It wasn't your fault."
McGee hesitated, biting his lip, and he didn't meet Tony's eyes, but eventually, he nodded. Tony snuck a quick glance at Gibbs, but the boss man just sipped at his coffee and continued to stare through the observation window silently.
"Come on," Tony said eventually, squeezing McGee's shoulder once more for good measure. "Let's see what our girls need."
*** *** ***
Abby's eyes widened impossibly when she saw him.
"Tony!" she squealed, which sounded funny because she tried to be really quiet at the same time. And before he could say anything, she was on her feet and had flung her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek against his as hard as she could. It took him by surprise that it all happened much quieter than Abby usually did any of these things. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her back hard, and for just a heartbeat it wasn't her who clung.
"Is she awake?" he murmured quietly, and Abby drew back and shook her head. Her eyes were strangely dry, and he couldn't help but wonder why. Maybe this wasn't as bad as he had thought it was, after all. Or maybe the shock just hadn't quite set in yet.
"She fell asleep a few minutes ago. They did some scans and everything except her eyes seems okay, but they want to keep her here for observation." Abby's words made him clench his hands again, and she felt his tension, of course, and touched his arm in concern. "Are you okay, Tony?"
He nodded absentmindedly. Sure he was okay. At least he guessed he was. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so numb, though, and maybe it was better that way.
"Yeah, they checked my ears and all. Seems I'm the one with the thicker head this time, can you believe that?"
Abby started to giggle at the DiNozzo charm that always got her, but halfway through the laughter, he saw her lips start to tremble and the tears were rising in her eyes, finally. And he sighed and pulled her to his chest again and stroked her back until the worst of it was over and her tears died down to a soggy sniffling.
In the end, she flat out refused to leave her vigil by Ziva's side to get some rest, and so she fell asleep in the chair she had dragged to the bed, with her arms and head resting on the side of the bed in a way that would make her joints hurt for sure when she woke up. Her smeared makeup left faint smudges on the no longer pristine sheets. McGee, who had pulled up another chair beside her, took over the job of stroking her back in a calm, never-ending pattern of up and down, up and down, as if that alone would be enough to make it all better.
Tony, in his own chair on the far side of Ziva's bed, wondered if it might. He touched two of his fingers to Ziva's wrist, seeking her pulse. It beat against his fingertips, softer than he had imagined it would feel. He looked up and met Gibbs' eyes through the observation window.
*** *** ***