Rule 39: There Is No Such Thing As Coincidence (Tony DiNozzo Love Story)

No Questioning

Gibbs's POV

    Ducky and the doctor are settling the ghost into the guest bedroom in my house as I make some coffee. I glance toward the counter where the case file is sitting. Bits and pieces of information, but nothing solid to any of it. Flipping it open, I reread the profile of Matrona Tvardovsky. There's a couple of snapshots of her, all of them with just a glimpse of her face or from the side. Always alone.

    "Jethro, she's resting."

    I look up to see Ducky standing a few feet away from me.

    "Thanks Duck. Is there anything she'll be needing?"

    "A quiet recuperation, she has an IV drip that you'll have to change later and here are some pain medications for her. Here are some bandages and antiseptic, her wounds will need to be changed as well while she's in your care," the doctor says. I thank her and she leaves.

    "Having her life in danger isn't helping her very much with recuperating either," Ducky adds.

    "This girl has gotten into quite a bit of trouble. If she wasn't, nearly a dozen different men wouldn't have tried to kill her in a week's time. Nor would she have been a captive in a highly secured compound," I say and Ducky nods his head sadly.

    "Isn't it coincidental that she would have been there when you were there to arrest and bring back Cruz Pavia for the murder of that Navy Captain and the Petty Officer?"

    "There's no such thing as a coincidence, Duck," I say.

    "Then maybe there's just a bit more that we're not seeing. Something that could be right in front of our faces."

    "Are you trying to give me some cryptic advice here?"

    "I'm just saying that you might want to watch and listen for a while."

    I stare at him a moment and nod.

    "Alright."

    "She needs to eat three times daily, something light but with enough nutrients to help her stay awake and lucid with her medication. She needs to take her medication every six hours, depending on pain she can take it then. And no questioning."

    "No questioning. Got it," I say as Ducky begins saying questioning.

    "Alright, I'll be by tomorrow morning before I head in to see how she's doing. Oh, and her bandages need to be changed every few hours."

    "Got it." We walk towards the front door, but Ducky stops.

    "Be careful with her Jethro, she awfully reminds me of you," he says concerned. I nod again and say goodbye as he leaves.

A Few Hours Later

    I've checked on her a few times already and she's been asleep. I start to make her something to eat, knowing I can't let her go hungry. It's also time to check on her bandages and give her pain medication. After about forty-five minutes, dinner's done. Setting up her plate and silverware on an old breakfast tray, along with a glass of water, her medication and some bandages. I make my way to her room for the time being.

    Creaking the door open a bit, I can see that she's sitting up. I knock and push the door open all the way. She looks over at me with tired eyes.

    "I made you some dinner," I say as I place the tray down on the bed.

    "Thank you. Nice room, didn't take you as the decorating type."

    "This room used to belong to a very good friend of mine, I painted it in case she ever came back," I say. She nods and looks around the room.

    "Sky blue."

    "It was her favorite color." She turns and looks at me.

    "What happened?"

    "She died," I reply. She stares back at me, no reaction to my statement.

    "I'm sorry," she says. I nod, still holding the tray I look down at it.

    "I um, I also brought your medication and some clean bandages. Dr. Mallard told me to get your bandages changed every few hours, but I didn't want to wake you."

    "Oh, it's fine. Um, here," she says and lies back down and turns onto her right side.

    I take a seat next to her and grab for the bandages and alcohol wipes. She pulls the side of her shirt up to reveal a bloody bandage. Taking careful movements, I pull the tape and remove the bandage and place it aside. As I look at the wound, I notice the scars along her side. Taking the alcohol wipes I clean the open wound, she doesn't move but I can tell that she's in pain. Placing a new bandage on and securing it with new tape, I sit back.

    "There you go." She pulls her shirt back down and sits up.

    "Here." I hand her a couple of pills of her medication and the glass of water. She takes it.

    "You're really wanting me to get cleared by the Doc," she says.

    "I'm not going to deny that, but you have been through quite a bit the last week or so."

    "I can't promise you that they won't find me here too."

    "Believe me if they try and get in here, they won't be leaving," I say.

    "I'm sorry for placing your team in such danger."

    "Never apologize —it's a sign of weakness. But I'm sure you know that." She nods.

    "Always the lighthearted and bearer of advice," she says.

    I look at her closely as I've heard that said before. From who?

    "You all have impeccable timing as well did you know that?"

    "I've been told," I say. Again I can't remember where I've head this from, but I recognize it.