Magnolia and Beige

He'd once thought there was only so much time that you could spend starting at the ceiling before you got bored. However, he had proved himself wrong that night. For at least three hours now he'd done nothing but stare at the ceiling. Thoughts ran through his head; sometimes useless thoughts, like wondering whether the colour of the ceiling was magnolia or beige, and sometimes they were memories, places and lines of speech that had been forever printed into his mind...things that he should never have lived in the first place, let alone have to revisit in his mind a million times over. The latter of these thoughts were the ones that took full hold of his mind, as the distinction between colours had to be abandoned - he soon realised that he wasn't even aware of a difference between magnolia and beige.

"He's a fifteen year old kid."
"I've seen twelve year old suicide bombers in Israel."
"He's not a terrorist."

Once the memories took hold he no longer saw the ceiling. He'd stay in the memory, and when he opened his eyes after blinking he'd be staring at the interior of a car instead. He could remember that vividly, despite being only eleven years old. He could remember suddenly snapping his eyes open at the sound of his mother's voice calling him, wondering why he was so uncomfortable, and yet all the time looking up at the roof of the car; the grey-like fabric covering the harsher metal interior in the place that he was staring. In some places the metal was showing through, jagged edges of the tough metal piercing through the torn fabric in the front of the car, but he tried not to look at them. If he looked at them, he'd only think about how mad his father would be when he realised that his mother had crashed the car. Maybe almost as mad as he would be when he found out how drunk she'd been when she got in the car in the first place.

And then the memories would fade, and when he blinked for a second time he'd be looking back up at the ceiling again, wondering whether he was imagining things or whether there really was a spider crawling around in the darkness. Perhaps it was just a shadow. Either way, he didn't care. He didn't move. He wasn't afraid of the spiders, and he wasn't afraid of the shadows.

He was afraid of being helpless. He was afraid of not being able to do anything.

A bit like he'd felt earlier at the school, where fifteen-year-old Kody Meyers was holding a classroom hostage. Gibbs had been inside the classroom, putting him in charge as senior field agent...he hadn't been sure what had disturbed him more - the fact that Kody resembled Kate, with a sniper unit trained on him and ready to shoot to kill, or the fact that Kody resembled himself, wanting nothing more than to see his mother again.

"Where are you going?"
"To talk to Kody."

Of course, it had only been a year for Kody, since those memories when life was easy...normal, even. It had been more than twenty for Tony.

"A headshot will stop this without setting off the bomb."
"Just like that. A head shot."

He remembered those days, still. Days when his only worries were playing in the street with the other kids, trying to pretend they were like the kids further in town even though they were surrounded by the high gated mini-mansions they all lived in, and trying to get Hannah Tyler, the girl that used to punch him in the arm during gym class, to try and kiss him behind the bike sheds like the older boys did. He remembered those days, those distant times, right up until the previous night, where his worries had been focused on locating a missing Petty Officer who had been a victim of domestic violence.

He had changed so much. His mother hadn't seen it.

"Are you the man or what?"
"I'm the one you want."
"Bring my mother to the classroom."

Kody's mother had only missed a year of his life, and she'd found a way to keep watch over him even though she was supposed to be dead. Tony, on the other hand, knew that his mother wasn't coming back. She hadn't been there when he turned twelve, and his father cut off his inheritance. She hadn't been there to see him throw ot his childhood toys, insisting that he had to take care of himself now. She hadn't seen the few cherished objects that he'd been unable to get rid of, the ones that he'd tucked away in a corner of his father's loft. Of course, she'd probably be disappointed in the way he treated women, but part of him realised that she would have been just as drunk as he was, probably egging him on to take all those girls home.

He just sobered up in between, unlike her.

"You have until sundown. If you...if you can't do that then...everyone dies."

Kody's mother had seen him start a new school, suffer bullies and try to fit in and make friends. Tony's mother, had she been watching, would have seen him break down after Kate's death, struggle with his uncertain feelings for his new partner, and solve some of the most grisly murders he could have ever imagined. Part of him wanted to believe, more than anything, that his mother had simply disappeared like Kody's, and that she wasn't really dead.

But only part of him.

The rest of him, the logical side of him, was telling him otherwise, especially as he lay in the dark, the first rays of sunshine creeping in the room. If she was just hiding, she'd have found a way to watch him. When he was little and he overheard his parents fighting, his mother would come into his room and assure him that no matter what happened, she would always find a way to see him, no matter what his father said. But he was a federal agent. He'd know if someone was watching him. Especially her. She wasn't the most discreet of people.

And that, he realised, was the difference between him and Kody Meyers.

"A lot of people imagine seeing dead loved ones."
"Well, it's the park where he wants to talk to her that's got us a little worried."

Kody's mother had hidden away to protect her family. Tony's had died because she was drunk at the wheel - the only reason he was in the car with her was because he was trying to show her how stupid she was being, and that his father would be mad at her for doing this. Kody's mother had found a way to watch over him, to keep him protected. Tony's had simply encouraged him to get out of the car with the firemen when they arrived and cut the car away from his bruised legs. Him getting out of the car then, and not his mother, had been what resulted in her death. Kody's mother had come back to him today, sobbing as she held her arms out to her son and told him that she loved him.

Tony's mother had sobbed over him many a time, usually drunk, but she hadn't told him that she loved him for at least a year before she died. He'd been hurt at first, but he eventually realised that it was the drink that caused her to forget to tell him the most important thing a child should her.

"I want you to know that Special Agent Caitlyn Todd is out looking for your mom."
"Don't come back until you find her."

Mothers, he realised, could be so different, yet produce such similar sons.

"You want me to take him out."
"It may be your only option."
"I'd like to get them all out alive, Director. Including Kody."

It was because of these mothers that he and Kody were so similar. Many times he'd realised that Kody's situation reflected so much on his own childhood, only he had the conflicting teenage hormones interfering with his grief. That had come after Tony's grief - or rather, in the period where he just didn't care to feel anything real anymore.

"I need to know that you're capable of making the call."
"I've done it before."
"On a fifteen year old?"

Mothers were also what set them apart. Kody's came back - Tony's never would.

"Kody, Agent DiNozzo, here. I have some good news. We have your mom."
"You found her?"
"Yes, we did. She's being escorted onto the base as we speak. She should be arriving at the school in twenty minutes. You sit tight, we'll have a happy ending here."

Different, yet the same.

"Sir, we're going to lose the target."
"He's not a target. He's a fifteen year old boy who misses his mom."

A bit like magnolia and beige.

END