He sat numbly, hands in his lap, staring at the walls of the waiting room of Bethesda. He thought somehow, he should be feeling...more. Of something…anything.
Instead, he just felt hollow, and cold.
Something like this was bound to happen. He should have known...
He looked down at the floor, absently studying the small diamond pattern in the carpeting of the room.
Suddenly, there was a hand on his shoulder.
"Boss," he said hoarsely, looking up at the concerned blue eyes studying him. "How did you know-"
"Dr. Pitt called me. He told me you came in with your Dad earlier." Gibbs handed Tony a cup of coffee and sat down next to him.
"Thanks," he said, taking a sip. He looked at the clock. It was 22:18. He'd been waiting for hours.
"You hear anything yet?" Gibbs asked gently, also glancing at the clock.
"No," Tony said, licking his lips and staring at the diamond patterned floor again. "It's pretty certain...he had a heart attack...but they're still trying to assess the damage. He was unconscious when we got here in the ambulance."
"What happened?" Gibbs asked, leaning forward and looking at him.
Tony took a shaky breath, "Well, in a nutshell, I may have killed my father." He turned his head and looked at Gibbs with a desolate expression in his eyes.
Gibbs raised his eyebrows just for a moment. "Why don't you start from the beginning. We may be here a while anyway..."
Tony nodded, and looked at the wall again.
Gibbs shifted in the chair a little. He knew the younger man was gathering his thoughts. He could only guess at the mixed emotions Tony had about his father, and the possibility of his death. He was torn himself. He hated Tony's father, for how he treated his son. To say he was negligent as a parent was an understatement. Gibbs still found it hard to believe, what his SFA had to endure as a child…
"After...everything we went through...with the Anselmo's," Tony said softly, "my Dad called and left me a message. He…said he'd stop by sometime, but didn't say when exactly, and that he..." he was holding the coffee cup in both hands on his lap, nervously picking at it,"...that he hoped I had called...about the piano because I was playing again."
Gibbs took in a sharp breath.
Tony had just recovered...they had both recovered, from being terrorized months back by Tommy Anselmo, the son of Tony's childhood piano teacher, Robert Anselmo.
Robert Anselmo was a master manipulator, and a pedophile. He'd gotten to Tony right under Senior's nose, when the boy was still only in single digits. And Tony suffered horribly for years, until he refused to play piano at all anymore. His father angrily sent him off to military school, since it was Senior's dream for him to be a professional musician. Sending him away probably saved Tony's life, since Anselmo had been getting more violent with him, on top of the sexual abuse.
While "Bobby" Anselmo had spent time, and even nights away with Tony, his young son, Tommy had watched it all. Though he was friends with Tony, his jealousy grew over the years. He knew, to an extent, what his father did with Tony. But his mind had warped and misconstrued the molestation for love. And when Tony left for the Academy, things got worse for Tommy.
Once Bobby Anselmo lost Tony, he was found guilty more than a year later of raping and murdering a boy who was about Tony's age...and looked a lot like him.
The results on the Anselmo family were devastating, and Tommy's life lead him to a point of unraveling, and bitter hatred towards Tony. He blamed Tony for it all, for taking his father away, and setting him on a path of bad decisions and self -destruction. He was psychotic. And eventually, came after Tony for revenge.
Gibbs was quickly brought back to attention by Tony's voice.
"Of course, Dad didn't know why I left the messages for him...about the old piano...when we were trying to figure out who was sending me the keys." Tony shivered. "He didn't know what Tommy knew about them..."
Gibbs placed a supportive hand on Tony's arm again, letting the thumb trace a soothing circle over the fabric of the cotton shirt he was wearing.
Tony took a deep breath, and continued, in spite of the feeling he couldn't quite get enough air in.
"I didn't mean for it to get so out of control," he put the coffee cup on the floor and rubbed his eyes. "When he came to the door...I knew...I knew it was probably not gonna' go so well..."
(Flashback)
Saturday afternoon had been really productive. He'd paid bills, done laundry, gotten the car cleaned out and washed. And then taken a four mile run.
Tony had just gotten out of the shower when his doorbell rang.
Probably Mrs. Hoffman, he thought, she probably needs me to move a piece of furniture again. Some of the older folks in the building had caught on that Tony was a good guy, and as a result, he sometimes helped move furniture, walk or feed an occasional dog or cat, and chauffer one or two of the really old ones to the store when he could.
He quickly threw on Jeans and a striped button down shirt and ran to get the door.
He was shocked to see Senior, smiling and standing in a relaxed, almost cavalier pose in his doorway.
"Dad..." Tony managed, as his father easily brushed by him and went into the apartment. He shook his head a little, muttering, "why don't you come in," to himself. He shut the door, with a feeling of anxiety already gnawing at him.
He wasn't prepared for this.
Senior walked right into the living room, and then turned around, grabbing Tony into a hug.
"Good to see you Junior!"
Tony gave him a quick squeeze in return and then backed away. "I had no idea you were in town, Dad."
"Ah, well, I had some business up in New York yesterday and figured I'd just come down here to see you." Senior flashed a dazzling grin and sat himself down on Tony's suede couch.
"The place is looking great!" he said, looking at Tony's belongings and decor. "I was hoping I'd see a piano in here though..."
Tony scowled, just a little. This already.
"Dad, you want some coffee?" Tony asked, hoping to deflect just for the moment. He knew it was inevitable, the talk they needed to have. And he knew it would make his father very unhappy, whether he believed him or not.
"Sure," Senior said, uncertain if Tony had changed the subject on purpose.
Tony smiled at him, "Okay." He walked into the kitchen. "How long will you be in town Dad?"
He heard the reply from the living room, "Oh, just for the day. I hope I didn't catch you in the middle of something..."
"No," Tony said, as he scooped the beans into the coffee maker. He had grown accustomed, though begrudgingly so, to his father's haphazard contact. "I was maybe gonna' go see a movie with a friend, but it's nothing that was set in stone."
"Are you sure? Because, I'd love to take you to dinner tonight."
"Sounds good," Tony said, coming back in to sit in a chair across from the couch. The sound of the coffee percolating drifted softly from the kitchen.
"I'm sorry that I've been so hard to catch up with, Junior. I've been so busy..."
Tony wanted to tell him it was alright. But it really wasn't. He knew that it was logical, not to expect anything different from Senior…but it still sucked.
His father continued, "And I really hoped you called about the piano because you decided to play again. Your mother and I thought you were so talented. And Bobby did too..."
Tony was looking away from his father, mouth twisting a little. The old resentment, hurt, and anger were all still there, now made worse by what had happened with Tommy.
Tony took a very deep breath, and looked at his father.
"Dad...we need to talk...about Bobby...and the piano...and Tommy." He had his palms out flat on his knees, trying to anchor himself somehow with the feeling of the denim under them.
"I hope you weren't angry with me, for giving Tommy the piano…you weren't using it after all. It just sat there for so long. It was good to see him. But I still think it's odd how he reacted, when I asked about his father."
Tony bit his lip a moment, and then let it go, looking at the stripe on Senior's tie.
"Bobby was killed in prison."
"Prison?" his father said incredulously.
"When you sent me to military school, and you went to stay in Europe, Bobby...raped and killed a twelve year old boy."
"What?" Senior's eyes were wide with disbelief. "I can't believe that."
Tony felt the accumulated anger starting to leak out of its confines in his mind and heart, to escape his control.
"You're surprised? Really Dad? Even after I tried to tell you what he was doing to me?"
Senior frowned, and shook his head, looking away. "No. You… made that up. You just didn't want to play anymore..." Then he looked up at Tony again, with a bit of a glare.
"You keep telling yourself that," Tony quipped, and then stood up and started pacing. "You were so blind, Dad. You were drinking all the time. And every time you went away, and left me with him-"
"NO!" Senior said loudly.
Tony stopped, and looked at him.
"Yes. Yes Dad. He took me to hotels...and...h-he …." Tony was trembling with fury. His father could no longer meet his eyes.
Senior stood up, "I can't believe after all this time...you're still on about this. You must have imagined-"
"What? Imagined what?" Tony's eyes were fogging up with waves of water. "Do you know he told me he killed mom? Just to keep me in line? He told me he'd kill you too if I didn't..." he was choking out the words now, "...if I didn't do...what he said. And that piano...he wrote under the keys Dad. " His words were slightly strangled, but he forced himself to continue. "He dated them as mementos. Every time he...every time he took me to a hotel. "
Senior was turning colors, and breathing heavily. But Tony could see he still wasn't able to wrap his head around it.
"He died, in prison Dad. And Tommy...had some kind of breakdown...and came after me and Gibbs..."
"Tommy?" Senior said, looking dazedly back at him. "I don't understand..."
"He blamed me," Tony said, with tears trickling down his face, "he blamed me for taking his father away...for screwing up his life...and he knew. He knew about the...the k-keys...and.." his breath was hitching.
"I just can't believe this..." Senior said more softly, now paling. "What...what did Tommy do then with the piano?"
Tony swallowed. He was frightened now. Because after all the years of hating his father for not knowing or seeing what had really happened with Anselmo, he was finally listening. It was sinking in.
"Tommy...sent me the keys...a few at a time. Anonymously. To rattle me...and then he kidnapped Gibbs. To get to me."
"What happened?"
"Tommy almost killed us both…and he… he..." even after months of therapy, thinking about Tommy Anselmo's hands on him, as he begged him to stop, made Tony physically ill. He knew he had to say it. "He raped me, Dad. He…shot Gibbs…and almost killed him…"
Senior looked away, eyes frantic, and scratched his head. He finally looked back at Tony, with real anguish in his eyes.
"I...I had to dig Mom up," Tony moaned, needing to get it all out, "and I didn't want to do it Dad, I swear. But we had to know if Anselmo killed her."
"You..." Senior whispered, horrified, "dug her up?"
Tony nodded, blanching, ready for the backlash.
He was dazed now, looking at his son. "And did he? Did he kill your mother?" it came out as a sharp whisper.
Tony shook his head. "No. He just...wanted me to think it..."
They both stood, trembling, and silent. It was only a few moments, but seemed like a span of years.
Finally, Tony sighed, still shaking. "Say something, Dad..."
"I..." Senior was visibly overwhelmed.
"Dad, you believe me now, right?" Tony asked in a small voice, remembering what it felt like when he had tried to tell the truth to his father years ago. The fear or reliving that moment of rejection from his own father, had never left him.
Senior stared at him, and then a strange expression passed over his face. It went from discomfort, to confusion, to agony in seconds.
The older man clutched at his chest.
"Dad !" Tont leapt forward, leading his father back onto the couch as the man clawed at his son and gasped for air.
"It's gonna' be okay, Dad, breathe!" Tony grabbed his cell phone off the end table and called 911 for an ambulance.
As they waited, Tony knelt next to the couch, with a hand on his father's arm. He felt helpless. Again.
Senior was struggling to breathe, and pasty white.
"T-Tony..."he struggled to open his eyes and look at his son. "M'sorry..."
'Don't think about it now Dad, just try to relax, and breathe..." Tony was so frightened he could barely breathe himself.
For so many years, he hated his father for being a drunk, for not protecting him. And now, he was terrified the man was going to die.
Tony watched his father's labored breathing, and loosened his tie.
He sat back on he heels, and raised a hand to his face, whispering, "What the Hell have I done?"