Chapter Text
Tony was woken up on Monday morning at a quarter to three, as he often was, by the ringing of his cell phone. It was the ringtone he had picked for dispatch, so with only a few disgruntled sighs, he grabbed it off the nightstand and answered. "—"
To Tony's surprise, not a sound emerged from his throat. Instead of the ruined squeak he had managed on Friday and Saturday, this time there was nothing.
"Agent DiNozzo?" Kelley the dispatcher asked.
Tony attempted to clear his throat so that he could answer her, but even that was barely a whisper. He attempted again to whisper "hello," but not a sound emerged. "—"
A moment later, dispatch hung up on him. Tony quickly pulled up Messenger and sent them a text: Voice gone. You'll need to call Gibbs yourself. Heading to Doc.
He got a reply fairly quickly: Will do. Feel better. Tony wondered what it said that Kelley from dispatch had shown more concern for his health than his teammates had yesterday. It probably said something about him. Or his team. It was too early for Tony to think properly.
The one thing he did know was that if he was going to be unreachable this morning — which by Gibbs's definition he probably was — then he would need to actually go see that Doctor. Tony felt a little like a kid who needed a doctor's note to skip school, but it was the only thing he could think of that might even slightly diffuse Mt. Gibbs from erupting all over him later.
He was also, as he admitted to himself in his dark bedroom, a little worried. Ducky had been blithely reassuring yesterday that a good night's sleep would put Tony back to rights. Waking up this morning with his voice worse off didn't exactly inspire confidence in that diagnosis. It wasn't that he doubted Ducky's abilities as a doctor, but there were such things as specialists for a reason.
Tony took a few experimental deep breaths, and his lungs felt okay-ish. He'd definitely inhaled a bit of dust and smoke at the park last night, when the bomb went off. Tony quickly pulled up Brad's number and sent him a message too. Voice gone. Lungs meh. Should I see you or someone else?
The first time that Tony had ended up in the hospital post-plague — for a gunshot to his arm that needed stitches — they'd taken one look at the word 'plague' in his file and put in him a quarantine unit. Fortunately, Brad was on duty that night, and, as an Infectious Disease specialist, was called in to consult. When he found Tony sitting there, perfectly alright save for, you know, the bullet hole bleeding all over everything, he'd laughed.
After that, they'd worked out a system. Brad's subspecialty was pulmonary diseases, so he'd gone the unusual route of becoming Tony's on call pulmonologist. Whenever Tony needed to see a new specialist for something, Brad called ahead and briefed them on his history. Tony's medical file also now had a special note from Brad at the front explaining that he was not infectious. Tony couldn't remember which of them had made the Typhoid Mary joke, but it was now officially called the 'Typhoid Tony Protocol' in Bethesda's servers.
Tony had just finished brushing his teeth, shaving, and dressing in a casual button down and jeans when Brad texted him back. Come to Bethesda. I've made you an appointment at 0430. Ask for me. Since it was just after 0330, Tony would have plenty of time to get there. He grabbed his usual work backpack, just in case, as well as his gun and creds. Then, at the last minute, he detoured to his living room and grabbed his tablet. It might be easier for him to type and share messages on the bigger screen than to use his phone. Within a few minutes, he was out on the quiet roads, heading the familiar route to Bethesda.
o
"Well, the good news is, this probably isn't permanent," Brad declared as he and Doctor Melissa returned. She was an Ear, Nose, and Throat specialist who Brad had brought along to consult.
Tony allowed himself to sag a little with relief. Ducky had said that yesterday, of course, but he had to admit he'd gotten a little worried in the meantime.
"Unfortunately, it isn't as simple as your garden-variety laryngitis," Doctor Melissa said seriously.
Hit me, Docs. Tony quickly typed.
"There is an infection in your throat and lungs, which is part of the problem," Brad began. "It isn't very bad yet, but we want to aggressively treat it because of your history. We also want to keep you from coughing if at all possible, so you'll need to avoid the usual suspects; allergens, laughing, exercise… you know the drill."
Tony did, indeed, know that drill. He had become very familiar over the last few years with the different kinds of coughs and their triggers. The deep, mucus-moving kind of coughs he was often encouraged to make, but the higher, irritant-based ones just made everything hurt more. Got it. he typed.
"Now, what makes this different than usual is your loss of voice," Doctor Melisa picked up the explanation. "You've got some lesions on your vocal cords that I want to run some more in depth tests on. lt's likely that they are acute, caused by the huge amount of talking you did yesterday in an allergen-rich environment. However, there's a chance that these have been lurking there for a while, indicative of a bigger problem. With your history, we just don't know if this might be a delayed repercussion."
So now what? Tony typed, deliberately shoving away that terrifying thought to worry about later.
"Now, I'm going to order some tests," Doctor Melissa said in a somewhat reassuring way. "But you aren't to talk for at least a week. I mean it. No whispering, no 'just this once', no 'but this is important' — nothing. Any aggravation of the lesions could cause problems, depending on what has caused them."
"Which means we also want to minimize your coughing, hence aggressively treating the infection," Brad added. "I'm going to talk to Ducky: you probably shouldn't be in the field. The extra exposure to allergens and other people's colds is the last thing you need."
Theoretically, that all sounded doable to Tony, except for one problem. Gibbs, he quickly typed.
Brad sighed. "I'm hoping Ducky can help with that," he said. "But I'm gonna level with you, Buckeye, part of this will depend on you, your willpower, your choice to follow doctor's orders instead of his. I think the last thing you want is for this laryngitis to become permanent, and at the moment that's still on the table."
Tony's gaze shot to Doctor Melissa, who nodded seriously. Numbly, he nodded. Finally, he typed, So, no work?
Doctor Melissa and Brad exchanged a look. "Well, that depends," Brad said. "Normally we'd want you to limit your exposure to other people, though you can get away with wearing a mask around the office. I might be willing to sign off on desk duty for you, instead of sending you home, but you've gotta be straight with me. If I say you're on desk duty, is Gibbs just gonna order you back in the field, or to talk to suspects, or anything else I've prohibited?"
Tony rocked back against the hard back of the exam bed. That was the crux of things, wasn't it? If Gibbs said 'jump' would Tony do it? Probably. On the other hand, he hated being stuck homebound worse than he hated desk duty. His early return after the plague had shown that, and was probably directly responsible for Brad's skepticism now. He hadn't been amused that Tony's 'quiet return to desk duty' had involved outrunning a bomb and getting into multiple firefights.
If Tony went into the office, he was certain that Gibbs would push his boundaries, trying to get more use out of him. He'd ask Tony to check on things, knowing he'd have to make a phone call. Or he'd send him out 'just to pick up a suspect'. Gibbs never met a restriction he didn't want to bulldoze through. That he would push Tony to break Brad's rules wasn't even a question.
The question was, would Tony push back? This wasn't about feeling winded later, or needing an extra pain pill that night, this was possibly losing his voice forever. That would drive Tony crazy far faster than spending the week in his apartment ever would. How long? he typed.
"At least a week, then we'll reevaluate," Doctor Melissa said easily. "Depending on your test results, we might know sooner that we need to add something to your treatment, but it definitely won't shorten your sentence."
Tony considered that. A week, at least. He could do that; he could stand up to Gibbs for that long. After the first few days when he didn't cave, Gibbs would probably leave him alone until he was cleared. If it took a second week, however, Tony wasn't sure who Gibbs would throttle: him, or Brad. It would be easier to rest his throat at home, away from temptation and implied threats, but on the other hand, there was Vance. He hated Tony for some reason, and something like this might be just the excuse he needed to fire him, or transfer him Afloat for good. If Tony kept going to work, kept showing that he was a team player, maybe Vance would overlook his diminished capacity.
Could Tony do it? Yes. Did he want to? It was the lesser of two evils, so also yes. Could he use a little help standing up to Hurricane Gibbs? Oh yeah.
I can do it; I won't let anyone order or goad me into speaking, Tony finally typed. But at some point, Gibbs is gonna blow his top.
"I'll be talking to Ducky about that as well," Brad assured him. "And I'll impress on him how much you need backup in this. But if that doesn't work, I want you to call me, any time, and hand the phone to Gibbs. I'm a Commander; I have no problem pulling rank on the Gunny if I need to. Deal?"
Tony smiled: would have laughed, normally, but his amusement with the whole situation was pretty muted. Deal, he typed. He'd follow every one of Brad and Melissa's orders, and stick it out on desk duty as long as possible. But if things got too bad, he'd swallow his pride and get reinforcements from Ducky and Brad. When it came to his ability to speak forever, pride just couldn't compare.
"Alright, then let's get those tests done," Melissa said.
o
By the time Tony was done at Bethesda, it was 0600 and the Yard was open. He noticed that none of his team's cars were in the lot, meaning they were all still at the morning's scene. Relieved that he'd have a chance to get prepared before they returned, Tony headed inside. His first stop was HR, where he handed over his doctor's note requiring him to take precautions like wearing a mask, and restricting him to desk duty as able, or home rest if needed.
The sympathetic glances and comments he got were nice, but didn't make him feel any more ready for a confrontation with Gibbs. Finally, the paperwork was done, and he was sent on his way. Tony's next stop was Cyber, where he lucked out.
It took Kevin less than five minutes to get a text-to-speech app installed on Tony's tablet and phone, and to talk him through the basics of using it. It was pretty intuitive, so Tony picked it up without a problem.
Then, armed with his paperwork and new app, Tony headed for the top floor. Cynthia was very sympathetic, and quickly agreed to give his notice of restricted duty to Vance when he came in. Tony didn't think Vance would be too annoyed, provided Tony was already working when he arrived. Until Gibbs blew his top and made it Vance's problem to deal with, Tony probably would be able to float under the radar.
Tony's final stop before his desk was Autopsy. Fortunately, Ducky and Jimmy were already back with the body, and the latter greeted him with a cheerful "Hi Tony! Sorry to hear about your voice."
Ducky, who'd had his back to the door as he unzipped the body bag, took one look at Tony and shook his head. "I've already spoken to Doctor Pitt, Anthony," he said. "I agree that you should be home in bed, but as long as you insist on being here, I'll remind Jethro that you are not permitted to speak. And don't you think of taking off that mask, young man."
That was a lot less sympathetic than the other responses Tony had gotten this morning, but he was used to it. After all, Ducky had been one of the ones mangling movie phrases in front of him yesterday just minutes after telling him not to speak. Tony hadn't exactly expected sympathy from Ducky for several years now. With a quick text and a robotic "Thanks, Duck. See ya, Jimmy," from his phone, Tony headed back upstairs.
He managed to boot up his computer and get about fifteen minutes of work done before the rest of the team arrived. Gibbs immediately stomped over to his desk. "Well, look who decided to show up," he snapped.
Ignoring his tone — Tony had expected this, after all, — Tony just held up the note he'd prepared and the stack of paperwork from Brad and HR. Gibbs read the note, scowled, flipped through the paperwork, and then read the note again. "Well if you can't talk, what good are you?"
Tony could have let it go with a meek "I'll do everything I can," but he had promised Brad and himself that he was going to draw a line, and not let Gibbs push him over it. The speech app didn't convey sarcasm very well, but it was the best Tony could do. "I mean, if you want to do all of the SFA and Team Lead paperwork yourself this month, Boss, that's fine too. The Doc wanted me to rest at home, so if you think there's literally nothing I can do here but talk, then I might as well head out."
Tony felt a vicious thrill of satisfaction at the dumbfounded looks on Ziva and McGee's faces. Tony tended to do his arguing with Gibbs in private, rather than have the younger agents watch mom and dad fighting. Especially in recent years, since Ziva seemed to take every opportunity to deride him. But this was about drawing a line in the sand, which meant it needed to be public.
Gibbs's scowl deepened, but he dropped the paperwork back on Tony's desk and stomped off to his own. "McGee, get him up to speed on what happened, since he decided to sleep in this morning," he snarled. Tony was quietly grateful that his medical mask covered his face, and he didn't need to keep his expression perfectly blank in the face of Gibbs' jab.
Tony patiently listened as McGee stammered through the first few sentences of his sitrep — unexpected things always seemed to send him back a step until he had everything neatly compartmentalized again. It didn't take long; the scene had been a fairly straightforward mugging, with only the location — a back alley with two dumpsters — contributing to the amount of time they had spent bagging and tagging.
That partially explained everyone's bad mood: Ziva hated that kind of useless mass evidence collection, Gibbs hated having to talk nicely while canvassing when the others were busy, and McGee had borne the brunt of the others' frustrations.
There were two sources for surveillance video, and Tony easily filled out the request warrants for their tapes. He could usually do it slightly faster by calling JAG and getting them to do the paperwork side, but Tony was perfectly capable of filling it out himself.
He was also capable of typing up a description of the car that witnesses had seen, and sending it in a BOLO to Metro and the other Alphabet agencies. Again, Tony usually called to make sure that the fax had gone through, and that they were prioritizing it, but that was fairly easily fixed by scribbling a note on the cover sheet explaining that he'd lost his voice, and to email him with questions instead of calling.
Tony actually got several emails throughout the morning from his various contacts at Metro and the rest, assuring him that they'd gotten the BOLO and wishing him a speedy recovery. Ziva — and Kate before her — might have always given him crap for cultivating contacts among the locals they so frequently worked with, but he was being proven right today, wasn't he?
Of course, none of that seemed to take the edge off of Gibbs's anger, and Tony wondered how much of that was about himself, and how much just Gibbs's own bad mood or whatever. Had it been someone like Ducky, Tony might have thought this was Gibbs realizing that Tony had a legitimate reason for being gone this morning, and feeling guilty about thinking badly about him. Knowing Gibbs however, he was probably doubling down on his earlier anger out of sheer stubbornness.
Tony resolved to do his job to the best of his abilities for the next few days, hoping that his resolve to take care of himself could outlast Gibbs's anger. It might be a vain hope, but it was what he had.
o
Of course, it had taken less than a day for the scuttlebutt to make it through NCIS that Tony DiNozzo was on a medical restriction that kept him from talking. Quickly following on the heels of that was the information that he had spent an entire day gathering voice samples for that domestic terrorism case, which everyone rightly assumed was the direct cause of his injury.
Rocky wasn't the kind to gossip, though his SFA, Lori, was excellent at filtering the dross and keeping him abreast of the kinds of things he should know about. However, he'd spent most of a decade in the bullpen directly next to Gibbs, heading the mockingly titled 'Spare MCRT'. He didn't mind the moniker — they were officially the MCRT's backup when they were off rotation, and they handled plenty of major crimes, though his team's expertise lent them towards their official designation of arson and bombings. However, Rocky's desk placement meant that he and his team were on the front lines for all of the MCRT gossip, whether he wanted to be or not.
Thus, Rocky and Lori were the first people, after Gibbs — more accurately, at the same time as Gibbs — to find out that Tony had lost his voice. Since they had been backing up the MCRT in running down the bombing angles of the case, they were already well aware of what Tony had been through the days before. What Rocky didn't understand — and not for the first time — was why Gibbs seemed determined to blame DiNozzo for it.
From what he understood — and Rocky had the damned case files — DiNozzo had done his job, and suffered an impairment as a result. It was no different than if he'd been shot in a firefight and relegated to desk duty until it healed. Of course, Gibbs always seemed annoyed when that happened too, but not to this extent. It was a bit of a puzzle, and one that Rocky kept kicking around the back of his head as the day progressed.
The next thing to make the rounds was something that Rocky and Lori had indeed witnessed firsthand, and he suspected his second of being the major source of this "leak". Namely, that Tony's team was giving him a ton of shit about his injury. Lori had literally started counting on a post-it the number of times that David or McGee tried to bait Tony into talking. Rocky had stopped counting the number of times they "thanked god for the peace and quiet" at about seven before he gave up, but he was still silently steaming about it.
Rocky was quite proud of his reputation as an easy-going guy, but he was having to bite his tongue every time so that he wouldn't blurt out that those "peace and quiet" comments were doing more to disturb the peace and quiet they sought than DiNozzo reporting on a lead could ever do. A quick glance around his bullpen showed Rocky that all three of his own team members were nursing scowls and occasionally glancing over at the MCRT bullpen, so it wasn't just him.
So, when Lori returned from a quick coffee refill looking incredibly smug, Rocky didn't even feel bad for the new focus of the rumor mill she had inevitably revealed. DiNozzo's team could do with getting a little humility, this time around, so he didn't mind the gossip this once.
By lunchtime, the comments had not died down, but Rocky's patience had. Since his team was mostly working on trial prep and paperwork, they weren't called out for a case, and a chance to escape the mood next door. When Rocky sent them all off to take a long lunch and 'get some fresh air', the knowing, grateful looks he got in return were quite telling.
Rocky took the chance to escape and get his own lunch, though he didn't intend to take longer than an hour or so. He wanted to check in with Abby about her own trial prep for this case, and he could easily get that taken care of and get back to his desk before his team returned.
To his surprise, when he entered her labs, he found her and DiNozzo sitting on lab stools, an abandoned lunch on the table behind them, apparently in the middle of a sign language lesson. DiNozzo's ubiquitous pale blue mask was a sharp reminder of how much he was risking by even being here at the office.
"Hey Rocky!" Abby greeted him cheerfully, adding in a little sign and a swirl of her hands with her speech.
"Hey Abby, Tony. What's that one mean?" Rocky greeted them.
"That's you!" Abby explained, repeating the sign slowly. "B, then boxing. You know, for Rocky!"
Beside her, Tony mimicked the move. Intrigued, Rocky copied it too. "Like this?" he asked.
"Yeah, perfect!" Abby cheered. Tony grinned too; though the mask partially covered it, Rocky could tell from the way it rose up and the crinkles around his eyes.
"I take it you're trying to help Tony with his predicament," Rocky continued, content to delay his errand for a few minutes, since he'd clearly interrupted their own lunch break.
"Yup!" Abby agreed, while Tony's face fell slightly. "I've taught him a few things here and there over the years, but today we're covering some of the more common ones he can use with Gibbs."
"Oh yeah? Like what?" Rocky was genuinely curious.
"Well, like 'Boss'," Abby said, demonstrating, "Which is really just Gibbs's sign, in this instance. Then there's 'go see', plus the Director, Ducky, Security, and myself, so Tony can let Gibbs know if he needs to come see one of us. And Tony can say that Gibbs needs to see us too. That kind of thing." Each time, Tony had repeated her movements, and to Rocky's untrained eye, it looked like he had a pretty good handle on at least those words.
"That's pretty impressive for one setting," Rocky said. "I figured you'd just keep using that voice app I heard earlier."
Tony shrugged as Abby explained, "That's definitely good for more complex things, but signs can be used for short, common stuff."
"Makes sense," Rocky agreed. "What else've you got in your magic bag of tricks?"
"Well, we had to record a new message on Tony's phone, explaining that people should email him or call one of his teammates, depending on the urgency." She giggled. "Of course, Tony pointed out that now it sounds like I'm his sexy secretary, so I'm working on a different plan. Ooh, maybe I'll stitch together a message in your own voice. We do have all of those recordings of you talking from last week!"
Rocky chuckled. "Well, if that doesn't work and you want a man's voice, or even just a different woman's, you can always pop over and ask my team. We're on paperwork this week, so I'm sure no one will mind the break."
"Oh, right, trial prep," Abby bounced up, "I've got your files right here, Rocky," she handed them over. "Oh, but Tony, I just had the best idea! We should get Lori and Gwen and some of the others, and we'll each record a new message for you every day. Then it'll sound like you've got a lot of sexy secretaries!"
That made Rocky chuckle again, and Tony grin, though it quickly dropped away. He signed Gibbs' name, then made a strangle motion around his own neck. Rocky didn't need to know ASL to get the gist: Gibbs would kill him for it.
It caused Rocky a little pang to know that Tony felt that way, and another to know that he was absolutely right. What another senior agent would see as a coping strategy and a joke from his friends to cheer him up, Gibbs would take as proof that Tony wasn't taking his job seriously. He'd made similar enough comments over the years for Rocky to even be able to hear his tone of voice in his mind.
"He probably would," Abby agreed, her own smile dimming a little. "But on the other hand, how often is he gonna call you this week and actually listen to the message?"
Tony considered that, then made a 50-50 gesture with his hand.
Abby considered that, then shrugged. "Well, it's up to you, Tony. I still think you should go for it, but I'll keep working on plan B."
Tony looked relieved, and signed something short that Rocky guessed was a thank you. That was confirmed when Abby replied with her own sign and a verbal "You're welcome."
Rocky decided to leave them to it: he didn't want to make Tony cut his lunch short and have to return to the toxic atmosphere in his bullpen. "I'll distribute these to my team; thanks Abby," he said, hefting the file she had given him. "Give me a call when you want to go over your own testimony."
"Roger!" Abby mock saluted him.
"Hang in there, Tony," Rocky added, gently nudging his closest knee with the files. "If you need any help, feel free to ask anyone on my team; we're all office- and court-bound this week too, so someone'll always be around."
Tony repeated the 'thank you' sign from before, and Rocky smiled at the sight. He quickly made his way out of the lab and back to his desk, his mind churning. When Gibbs first brought DiNozzo to NCIS, so many years ago, Rocky wasn't the only one to wonder what he had seen in the young Detective.
Tony was brash, a jokester, and flirted as easily as he breathed. But it quickly became obvious that he was also a brilliant investigator, able to make great intuitive leaps. When Gibbs started spiraling through a divorce, Tony's humor served to disperse the tension in the bullpen. As various agents, including Rocky, worked with him in the field, it also became clear that Tony was focused and sharp when it counted, saving his jokes for when they could be afforded.
The oddest thing about DiNozzo was the way his relationships fluctuated. As other agents like Rocky became more accepting of Tony, his own growing team became less accepting. It started with Todd, who, to the bafflement of Rocky and the other senior agents, had no respect for Tony's SFA position. Even more perplexing, Gibbs supported this odd, flat command structure, cutting Tony's authority off at the knees. Todd encouraged the same disrespect from McGee when he joined the team. David, when she came, never bothered to hide her disdain for Tony as a person, let alone as an agent who technically outranked her.
None of it was overt, but something insidiously subtle that built up over time. For Rocky, it didn't really solidify until Gibbs took his hiatus to Mexico, while Tony was promoted up to the team lead spot. Instead of giving him an experienced SFA, the Director assigned him a green probationary agent, forcing him to use the untrained McGee, barely out of probationary status himself, as his second.
At that point, it became blatantly obvious — at least to Rocky and his team — that the lack of respect wasn't just for the SFA position, but for Tony as a person. It was also clear that David and McGee had every intention of poisoning their new probie against their leader.
Gibbs' return and ignominious demotion of Tony had sealed his fate in the team, it seemed. From there, the most puzzling question wasn't why Gibbs felt it so necessary to destroy the chain of command generally and DiNozzo's position specifically, but why DiNozzo put up with his crap.
From what Lori reported of the scuttlebutt, the most common theories — secret romance, obsession with the job, long-term deep cover operation, masochism, and bribery from the Director — had been disproved one after the other, and the leading theory was a combination of daddy and self-esteem issues.
Though Lori had relayed one surprisingly well-detailed theory that DiNozzo was secretly an android, — hence his startling mental acuity and his disregard for his own health — and Gibbs had found out — hence his disregard for the same. That one had started making the rounds after Tony survived the plague and Rocky could see why it had gained traction then, despite its impossibility.
After this newest piece of the puzzle, Rocky figured the scuttlebutt probably had it right. Not about the android thing, but about DiNozzo's issues. There wasn't much better explanation for him disregarding his own health enough to be here, while trying to follow his doctor's orders as best as possible, even when being put down by his boss and taunted by his teammates. Even the fact that Tony was spending his limited free time trying to learn sign language solely to talk to Gibbs in a way he understood made sense from that perspective.
Rocky's thoughts were interrupted as he reached his desk by yet another loud question from David on why she and the others were being forced to carry Tony's weight on this case. McGee responded with a bet about how long it would take Tony to break his silence — neither gave him credit past tomorrow morning. Since his desk faced away from Gibbs's bullpen, Rocky gave in to the urge to scowl. If he had to keep listening to Tony's team tear him down, this was going to be a very long week.