Disclaimer: I, sadly, don't own NCIS, only Benji =]
Hey everyone. I know I haven't put anything up lately, but with school starting back up and sports nonstop, I'm surprised I have time to breath. Also, just to imfor any of you who have read my story, But He's Still Gone, I'm starting to write to sequal so I really don't know how long it's going to take. I'll probably be putting up a lot of one shots or couplettes until i gt on the road with that and another story I'm starting. But thanks for being there and now here's a story I had written a while ago. Review are VERY welcomed=]. By the way, if any of you have a suggestion to what the sequal should be called, leave it in a review of message.
"Jethro, you mustn't get frustrated with the young lad, he's terrified and has the right to be." Ducky's voice bounced off of the ginger walls as they rounded the corner to the squad room. Eyes followed them as they glided farther away from the conference room and more towards the four desks in the middle of the room. Ducky pursued the man of mention as he stormed behind his escritoire and flopped down heavily in his chair. McGee and Ziva had looked up once they entered their area, and shook their heads at the situation before looking at Ducky for the final conclusion. He shook his head then turned back to the man in front of him. "Jethro, you must see it from his point of view…" his mind began to wander before his thoughts were interrupted.
"Hell, Duck, I've tried everything. Even McGee and Ziva went in there! The kid just won't talk; he's like a blank slate, nothing affects him. And if the kid won't talk, we don't have a case. His mother was rape and murdered by his father. His own damn father and we have nothing on him beside this kid's testimony. If he doesn't talk, his dad's gonna be whistling scot-free and who do you think it's all going to land on? That kid! I don't know what to do here." He hollered as he ran his hands through his hair and over his face. "The boy's tough, I have to give him that." He finished before slamming his fist on the desk.
"Maybe too tough, perhaps…?" Ducky pondered causing all three to turn their heads towards him. "Please, Jethro, hear me out; your childhood wasn't perfect, but you had people that loved you very much, no? You had a warm, safe place to sleep and come home to. Ziva," he turned towards her and she cocked her head to the side, intrigued. "Your home life also wasn't the best, but your father would do everything and more, move the sun and the moon to make sure you were safe. Finally Tim," Ducky turned once more to see McGee looking confused by the whole ordeal and concerned as to what it meant for him. "You had the All-American life style. Two loving parents, a sister that cares for you deeply, and a safe place to live. You are all strong, no doubt. Gibbs being verbally and physically, Ziva having physical strength and Tim, ideally, but you must realize, that while this boy is not only physically, ideally, and verbally, but also mentally strong. He's built walls and barriers around him and won't let anyone in. You need not to act on protocol but his lifestyle, which, I must admit, not one of you has." Ducky looked at the faces that surrounded him and sighed. "Must I spell it out for you?"
Finally it clicked as the elevator dinged its arrival, producing a very casual looking Tony leaning against the side with five coffees in one hand and a CafPow! in the other. A lazy smile graced his lips as his pushed off the wall and towards the group. Gibbs looked over at Ducky in surprise. They all knew Tony's kids skills were out the window. Hell, the only one that actually took to Tony was Carson and vise versa, but then again, they were like little brother, big brother, exactly alike in different time zones. Once he was finally in the vicinity of his team, he slowed his pace to a stop in front of his desk, feeling the tensions and stares. Placing them on the counter top, he finally cracked.
"What?" he asked before Gibbs turned back to Ducky.
"You must be crazy, Duck. There's no way…"
"Think about it, Jethro…"
"Duck I can't…"
"It's the only way." Gibbs' stared at him for a long, hard minute before his eyes lightened and his demeanor changed to confound. Ducky clasped a hand on his shoulder as a soft, sad smile graced his face. He stood from his seat and looked deeper into his eyes, making sure he was making the right choice. Finally content with what he found, a voice broke his thoughts.
"What the hell's goin' on?" Tony's voice was a mixture of confusion and concern as he locked eyes with his boss. Gibbs took a deep breath and knew the best way to go at this was straight on keeping a watchful eye on Tony's expressions, he began.
"Tony. You remember the case that we're working on?" Gibbs asked in a slight warranted voice as he watched the younger agent.
"Gibbs, I went for a 30 minute coffee run, not two weeks of vacation time." Tony joked as he took a sip of his coffee. Gibbs sighed knowing Tony knew the case too well but they had just found out about the witness a few minutes after he walked out the front door. He had no idea what was ahead for him so Gibbs preceded with caution.
"You're going to try and get a statement from our witness we found after you left. Eight year old boy watched as our Commander was raped and beaten to death by her husband, his father." He paused when he heard no breathing coming from the man in front of him. A heavy steel wall crashed down over his face and eyes, leaving nothing and everything to see. Gibbs, deciding to get it over with, continued. "McGee, Ziva and I have tried to get it out of him, but no go. The kid won't budge. If you have a problem with this, you tell me now, and you won't have to take one step in that room. Understand?" Watching as his disposition changed once more, a mask was plastered on over the wall and his dull eyes told him his answer.
"I'll do it, Boss. What conference room?" He asked as he pulled the new file from the top of the stack on his desk before descending down the hall.
"Room four. Wait, Tony-" He called out as he watched Tony disappeared around the corner but he was gone. With a heavy sigh, he turned towards Ducky. "I really hope you know what you just got him into Duck. I really do." His words were soft before sliding back into his seat and resting his head in his hands, awaiting the outcome.
Tony's breathing was vivid as he shuffled slowly down the corridor towards the wooden door. Stopping momentarily in front of it, he took a deep breath before turning the knob and pushing open the door. The scene facing him was one of the same. A small boy with disheveled dark brunette hair and freckles running across his nose sat in the chair closest to the window, staring at his shoes. In the corner stood a woman, long burgundy hair pulled back in a loose ponytail emphasized her light green eyes. Her smile was sad as she welcomed him in and he graced her with one of his own. His attention turned back to the boy as his feet started to swing gently back and forth, deciding that now was a good time to start.
"Excuse me, Ms…" Tony began but stopped short, realizing that he hadn't known her name.
"Ms. Brooks, but call me Jessica, please." He sensed that her tone would have been flirtatious if it wasn't for the current situation so he smiled lightly before getting back to the subject at hand.
"Would you mind excusing us for a while?" his tone was nice yet a steel rod ran through it, daring her to object. Her lips pursed as she thought, running over every thing from her few short years as a Social Service's Officer.
"I'm sorry, but it's not in regulations and unauthorized by standards." She shook her head but he smiled, knowing he had her hooked.
"Jessica, I'm a Special Agent, authorized to serve and protect, I'm certifiably qualified to help this young boy. Plus, sadly on the good side, he's a witness, not a suspect. I'm sorry to say you have no official grounds to be in this room. So if you don't mind please?" He watched as her face considered his proposal before settling on understanding and agreed. She walked quietly over to the boy, who still stared intently at his shoes and bent down in front of him before whispering to him. Suddenly she stood and proceeded to the door, lending a soft hand on his shoulder for support. Turning to watch as the door quietly clicked shut he waited a few moments before turning back to the boy; matching his breathing to his. The first time he looked at him was a glimpse, but now studying him he saw his physique.
His russet hair and natural high lights of golden blonde set off his medium tan skin as darker specks danced along his nose and cheekbones. He wasn't as scrawny as most of the kids that came and went but there was something about him that made him more fragile than most upon his lean figure. Tony walked over to the seat next to him but still on the side of the table and sat slowly, as if not to disturb him. He placed the manila folder on the desk before leaning his elbow on the table top and resting the side of his head on his hand, watching him with care and concern. Ten minutes passed before Tony broke the silence.
"Wanna soda?" he asked nonchalantly causing the boy to look up for the first time.
Tony had to drive his nails into his legs from taking in a breath of horror. An angry blue-ish yellow bruise laid right underneath of his right eye, a small cut sliced diagonally into his gently swollen left eyebrow and a scar from stitches still beat red under his left eye. His eyes were a piercing blue, more shocking than Gibbs' and too mature and knowing for a boy of his age. He saw the familiar feeling of untrusting and anger, but saw a flash of something more dangerous that he knew too well himself. A sad frown was on the boys' face but still he smiled brightly and stood to walk over to the fridge. Opening it up, he pulled out two cans of Orange 'n' Crème before sliding it closed and turning back to find the boy staring out the window; his nails digging into the skin of his thumbs. Sighing, Tony sat down and placed one of the cans in front of him before opening his own and taking a sip of the wondrous nectar. Opening the file he look back to find the can unopened. Looking over the papers, he began his try.
"Says here your name is Benjamin Joshua Edwards III out of North Hampton, before moving here to the base. That's a mouthful to say when we first meet, so lets dim it down some, shall we? How's Ben?" Receiving nothing he tried again. "Josh?" still nothing. "I didn't think so either." Tony pause, thinking of all the possibilities when a movie popped into his head. "I know, Benji." With a small look to the side, the boy glanced at Tony before looking down at his shoes once more. His smile got bigger when a small hand reached up and grasped the soda, bringing it close to him.
It isn't a statement, but it's a start. Tony thought as he flipped unnecessarily through the now known file.
"So, Benji, how you holding up?" His voice as no more than a whisper, understanding and comprehension seeping involuntarily into his words. The feet of the opposite person started to swing once more and Tony held back a sigh of awareness. Thumbing through the file a little while longer, he paused as a picture of the kid flashed across the white pages, showing what the marks had looked like the night of the attack, when he first went to the hospital. Flipping through all of the photos, of the boy and the shamed body of his mother, he quietly shut the manila folder and slid it farther away from his as he could reach. Listening to the jutted breathing he realized the kid hadn't said one word for the 20 minutes he's been in here with him. Looking back at the boy, he then knew why Gibbs didn't want him to do it. But he had to.
"I really do understand what you're going through. I really do, but I need you to tell me what happened." His voice was low and weak, but held the promise of knowing. Hearing an aggressive mutter, his eyes widened, not understanding what was said. "What was that?"
Benji lifted his head and his husky blue eyes glared at him with hatred and rage as he pushed the drink away with distaste. Hurt mixed in with pain flashed in his face as his feet stopped swaying and his nails dug into his fisted hands. Tony watched with shock as fuming eyes searched his before they rolled and a sneer rammed his face and looked away, making the eight year old before him turn seventeen in a heartbeat. He turned back to the shocked agent, still anger and wrath flaming in his eyes, but hurt and sadness deep within their cores.
"You don't understand. You're just like the rest of them that came in here, thinking that you own this place and that you know what's best for me. The only thing different this time is that you kicked the baby-sitter out. You don't understand, you never will." He spatted at him before turning his glare back at his shoes. Tony, who wasn't entirely too shocked by the boy's way with words at a younger age, stared deeply at the wooden table. His words were advanced but young, his voice soft and childish, making it worst to deal with, but still he pressed on.
"That's where you're wrong. I know more then you think. I'm not like them, never have been, never will be. I've been where you were, are." His words were honest but the kid looked back at him, fire in his eyes.
"How? How are you different? How do you know this? You're an adult. You won't believe me and you'll just send me back. You don't know." His voice was soft and low, yet dangerous. Tony sat there quietly for what seemed like ages before Benji spoke again. "See, you're just like the rest of them." His words were hateful as he looked away. Tony spoke a moment later, towards the table but out to Benji.
"My mother was killed when I was ten, by my father." His voice hovered for a second as it grew stronger, and he looked up, passion and anger laid inside. He didn't dare mention anything else of his mother, knowing it would mess up the entire storyline. Staring at Benji as he spoke, he watched as his resolve disappeared. "Every day and night, I would get taught 'lessons' whether they were physical," he said as he pushed up his sleeve and showed the wide-eyed boy a nine inch long scar from his shoulder blade to his elbow. "Or mental. I've been where you are, trust me, I have and I know what is keeping you from giving in, but you have to trust me." Tony searched those of the jumpy boy and wasn't to surprised by the deadpan response.
"No." Benji looked deep into the older man's eyes and didn't waver an inch as he held his ground. Tony silently applauded his stability yet worry grew rapidly from within at his mental state. "I don't have to trust you. I don't trust you! Just leave me alone, you don't understand. You're just like everyone else, just like him!" The boy suddenly stood, sending the chair crashing backwards as he stared at the agent, his fist shaking violently with anger. Tony stood just as fast on instinct and he watched as if in a flash back as Benji instantly pressed into the corner of the room, his eyes on high alert.
"Benji, please, don't be scared of me. Please, Benji…" Tony pleaded as he walked slowly towards him, pressing him further into the corner. His eyes ran wild, searching for an exit before locking with Tony's as he stood right in front of him. Deciding, he made a break for it and dashed towards the doors, only to have warm, protective arms enclose him to a strong chest. He screamed loudly as he fought him onto the ground, kicking and punching the whole way down. More screams broke through him as Tony ended sitting on the floor, Benji landing punches into his chest, just causing him to hold him to himself tighter. Screams turned to sobs and cries as his fighting turned weaker and tears stain the light azure shirt he had on. The door banged open as Gibbs, Jessica and two other agents walking down the hall at the time came barging through, hearing the commotion.
Tony looked up from the boy that was weakly trying to push him away and towards his boss, his own eyes haunted with tears and ghost before he shook his head and hugged the boy closer. Gibbs turned sadly towards the rest of the group and ushered them out wordlessly before turning back to the sight. Wanting to say something, but nothing coming to mind, he just watched the two for some minutes before walking out in sadness, closing the door softly behind him. Looking up, Ducky stood before him, pain in his eyes.
"I knew I shouldn't have sent him in there, Duck. I knew it."
Inside the room, Tony let the boy cry on as his own tears broke through the rims of his eyes while soft punches still came. A few minutes later, he heard Benji start mumbling words through his sobs.
"Why doesn't he love me? What did I ever do to make him not love me? Why?" his punches grew harder with each question just as his voice strived with more anger and tears. "What do I have to do to make him love me, huh? What?!" Tony quickly grasped his small fist causing him to look up at him, pain and suffering in his eyes. "Why doesn't he love me, why?" Tony's voice was rough and the lump in his throat wasn't melting away as he looked down at him. Knowing there was no way to sugar coat it for him, he just let out with the truth.
"I don't know why he doesn't love you. I can't see why he didn't. But it's just something that happens and it's not fair. You did absolutely nothing to deserve this just as I did nothing to deserve what my father did to me. All we did was love them and hope they loved us and what we got in return was a heavy backhand and a leather belt. I do understand, in some of the worst way, more than you know. You might think that not telling us will make you're father proud of you and it will. For a day."
"When he gets out of here and you're standing next to him, you might get a loving smile, a clap on the back and maybe, if you're lucky an 'I'm proud of you son'. But then when you get home it's going to start all over again, because he's going to want to make sure you didn't say anything and won't say anything next time. But it's that hope, that small, micro-millimeter of hope that he'll stop that keeps us from saying anything. You need to tell me what happened so I can stop what's happening to you. You have people that are willing and ready to put their lives on the line for you. Pease, Benji, please tell me." Tony stared intensely into his eyes and watched as the walls were stripped clean out from underneath him and his world shattered.
The next hour, Tony held Benji close as he cried for his mother and himself, the pain his father bestowed on both and what went down that night. Finally having it all, he lifted the exhausted, physically and emotionally, Benji into his arms and carried him into the sleeping quarters down the hall. Placing him on one of the cots and pulling the covers up tight around him, Tony unhooked his badge from his hip and nestled into Benji's hand. He smiled slightly as his hand wrapped tighter around it and bring it closer to his small chest. Turning around, he walked quietly to the door and flicked off the lights, casting the moonlight from the window across the boys face, making him officially look eight. Closing the door, he leaned against it as he regained his composure before straitening up and walking swiftly towards the main room. Stepping out of the hall, he slowed for the second time this day entering the space as all eyes turned on him as he made his way to his desk. McGee and Jessica were leaning against his desk talking with Ziva as Gibbs stood in the middle of them when Tony first caught their eyes. McGee and Jessica quickly straightened up as he rounded the corned and sat at his desk.
"Where's the child?" She asked uniterested, looking around before back at Tony who was looking down at the report he was writing.
"The child has a name and it's Benji. He is in the sleeping quarters." Tony said venomously, still staring down at his report, as McGee tiptoed back to his desk before signaling Jessica to follow. Gibbs looked at him in approval and with a quick glance back at Ducky who was occupying his chair; he walked up behind Tony and lean down towards his ear.
"Hey, Tony, head home, relax, finish up the report tomorrow, okay? It'll still be here in the morning." Gibbs voice was soft as he whispered in his ear but was startled when Tony looked him in the eye.
"I'm not going home until the reports done and on your desk, Boss." Tony's voice held a defiance that was never there before. Normally when given an order, it was done, but his words were steel compared to his normal joking, verbal excuses.
"Ah, hell, Tony, go home." He said as he raised his hand to land it in support on his shoulder. Sensing he took it the wrong way, he was more than a little shocked when a firm hand caught his wrist in a bruising grip and death-filled eyes looked up at him.
"Don't touch or hit me. Got it?" his spiteful voice hissed as he yanked his jacket off the back of his chair and grabbed his bag and the report. Heading for the elevator in record time, he pressed passed the body of people producing from it and jabbed his finger at the last button; leaving them there speechless. Gibbs looked down at his reddened wrist before casting a pain filled glance at Ducky.
"You were right to send him in there, Jethro. Do not doubt that." His voice was soothing as he came to stand next to his friend.
"I know Duck, but I just wish there was a better way." Gibbs said as he looked deeper into his companions' eye before ghosting a stare at the metal elevator doors. He looked out the window for a brief second and saw that dusk was just above the horizon. Standing there for a few minutes longer, he caught a glimpse of a man walking from the building and towards the garage, black bag slugged over jagged shoulders. Letting out a sigh, he turned back to the rest of the group that sat watching with perceptive. Jessica had walked away a moment ago to check on the boy as well as Ducky to bring the forgotten CafPow! down to Abby.
"Head home everyone, There's nothing here today that can't wait 'til morning." Ziva casted a glance over to McGee and they didn't wait to be told twice. Grasping their bags in one hand and their jackets in the other, they called out their goodbyes and took the elevator down to their exit. As he sat down at his desk he glanced over at the stacks of files, it dawned on him that his reading glasses were down in his duffle bag in the gym locker at NCIS. Looking out the window for a few more minutes and watched as twilight soon danced across the sky, he kept his desk lamp on and headed for the elevator. Pressing the button and stepping into the vacant metal he descended gracefully towards the floor right below Abby's lab and autopsy. Stepping off once it reached its destination; a rumbling noise met his ears.
Thump, thump, thump. Gibbs followed the rows of lockers to the opening of the gym before hard music reached his ears. Thump, thump, thump. Staying hidden in the shadows, he saw nothing out of the ordinary by the weights and floor mats to the right or with the machines towards the left. Stepping farther out to peer out to the center where the boxing ring laid, he found the owner of the music and his own rhythm. Thump, thump, thump. He recognized the song that was reaching its end as Break My Fall by Breaking Benjamin. Tony had raved about their concert for weeks and he final had to find out what they sounded like. They weren't that bad.
Thump, thump, thump. Sneakers and his tee shirt laid lifeless next to the unused gloves as grey sweatpants moved with the severe kick that was laid painfully in the side of the sand filled punching bag. The dock with his iPod sat in the corner of the arena blaring music that kept him up to tempo. Looking closer to the bag, crimson marks were decorating its cream exterior as the punches and kicks came faster and harder. Listening into the song a soft melody started and Gibbs almost sighed with relief at the slow undertake. Almost.
Thump, thump, thump. They came quicker and more forceful as the guitar filled the room.
Hey dad look at me
Think back and talk to me
Did I grow up according to plan?
And do you think I'm wasting my time doing things I wanna do?
'Cuz it hurts when you disapprove all along
Gibbs was stunned still as the words hit him. Looking back at Tony's bare back before his hands, he realized that he has been doing this ever since he left; his knuckles were dripping with blood and sweat. Thump, thump, thump. Knowing this needed to be stopped; he stepped out from the shadows and began towards the pitch.
"But dad, why can't I play football with my friends? I did everything you asked me to." He was younger, more fragile as he stood low under his Father's plush oak desk in his study. The hand was strong and steady as it landed right on his cheekbone.
"You'll never grow up to be anything worthy, Anthony. Never. You disappoint me again." He hollered at him as another blow landed. "Now leave my sight, you filthy, disgusting thing."
His blows landed harder on the weight, not even caring of the presence behind him. It was too much.
And now I try hard to make it
I just want to make you proud
I'm never gonna be good enough for you
I can't pretend that
I'm alright
And you can't change me
The only light that was on was the one above the ring as he stripped himself of his outer jacket, leaving him in a Polo and jeans. Stopping a second to admire his technique, he was struck by how athletic and skilled the man before him was.
"Look dad! Straight A's in every class, all year." His voice was small, hiding the tremors that threaten to show his weakness, his fear. "My PE teacher said I'm one of the most athletic kids he's ever had the pleasure of coaching." He took a step backwards at the danger in the cold, black eyes before him.
"You are supposed to be majoring in Business and Enterprise. You are to take over the family business when you are older, Anthony. You can never get anything right!"
He kicked the bag strikingly faster than his father had done with him on that cold day.
'Cuz we lost it all
Nothing lasts forever
I'm sorry
I can't be perfect
Now it's just too late and
We can't go back
I'm sorry
I can't be perfect
Thump, Thump, Thump. His russet skin covered strong, lean muscle as quick hands laid punch after punch on the worn surface. Unable to see his legs under the long material, his legs were swift and graceful as another heavy blow sent the bag swinging.
He stood out in the cold rain as his father pushed him farther into the mud and the muck, teaching him how to respect his wishes.
"You are to never do that again, Anthony. I will not forget this."
He didn't forget it either as the bag swung once more and the body behind him shifted.
I try not to think
About the pain I feel inside
Did you know you used to be my hero?
All the days you spend with me
Now seem so far away
And it feels like you don't care anymore
Gibbs moved to the side of the man in front of him as his hands moved lightning fast, attacking the bag with jab after jab of pentad anger. Thump, thump, thump. The mat around them was splattered with red as the bag swirled and dipped.
"That was great, dad. How did you ever learn how to shoot like that?" He asked once when he was six and carrying his father's rifle case. It was that one rare day each year when he felt loved, when he was tricked. His hope was brought back when a soft hand on his shoulder woke him up to go hunting.
"It all part of an old family tradition, Anthony. One day, I will show you and then you can show your son when you have one." He laughed heartedly as he tousled his hair and walked on.
Tony swung his fist into jabs before his skin raw foot connected with the bag once more at the fake memory.
And now I try hard to make it
I just want to make you proud
I'm never gonna be good enough for you
I can't stand another fight
And nothing's alright
He knew he knew he was here, the stiffness when he fist came close showed him that much, but it was this relentlessness, this…defiance, that scared him. Not one word came from his tightly wounded lips as another blow caught him by surprise; intensity and heat grazing his skin at the anger.
"When will you learn, Anthony!? Why must you be such a screw up? You'll end up in the gutter one day! You hear me boy? Just wait until you come home." His father yelled at him as he walked shamefully out the front door, into the windy midnight, December air.
He had laughed at the word home. It was anything but; more like hell. A sneer crossed his face as the Man beside him moved closer to him. He didn't want anyone here.
'Cuz we lost it all
Nothing lasts forever
I'm sorry
I can't be perfect
Now it's just too late and
We can't go back
I'm sorry
I can't be perfect
Thump, thump, thump. He wanted to reach out to him, touch him with reassurance, but yet in the same breath he didn't know what would happen if he did. He had never seen him this way in a long, long time.
"Anthony, what are you doing?! You are a disgrace to this family! I can not believe you would ever suggest such a thing. No son of mine is going to just give up everything just for sports!" His father roared the last time he had saw him. After a brutal beating that night he was shipped to a military academy the next morning and was disowned by his father. He was twelve.
Angry tears threatened to fall as blood fell harshly from his knuckles and bruises began to form. What had he ever done to deserve this?
Nothing's gonna change the things that you said
Nothing's gonna make this right again
Please don't turn your back
I can't believe it's hard
Just to talk to you
But you don't understand
Gibbs could only watch as the man in front of him began to crumble as fist pounded into the bag with rage he could only dream of feeling.
The hope, the trust, the love, the feeling, everything, was never gone. It was his father, yet why didn't he love him back? He could never buy him back his trust or love, could never go anything to make what he had done right. Not like he ever tried to. His whole life was nothing but his back turned or a stiff hand, even when he just wanted to talk, ask a question.
He let go of every ounce of feeling as he wailed uncontrollably on the bag, forgetting about his knuckles, his blood, his feet, he hope, family, trust and the man watching from the sidelines.
'Cuz we lost it all
Nothing lasts forever
I'm sorry
I can't be perfect
Now it's just too late and
We can't go back
I'm sorry
I can't be perfect
Gibbs watched in horror as what he had chosen to do destroyed one of his own, his senior agent, his Tony. He couldn't do a single thing, couldn't speak, move nor turn away from the sight.
'Cuz we lost it all
Nothing lasts forever
I'm sorry
I can't be perfect
Now it's just too late and
We can't go back
I'm sorry
I can't be perfect
Sobs finally ripped through his chest as his arms and legs gave out and he crashed to the ground on his knees. The bag still swinging, his arms hanged limply at his side as his head hung in shame, silent tears from the past decades and years falling rapidly, unable to stop. His hope finally lost, his trust finally broken, Anthony DiNozzo brought his hands up to his face and wiped away the blood, sweat and tears, only to replace it with newer ones. Looking over at the weights and bench, he moved to get up only to have strong hands keep him down. Pushing them off angrily, he stood and looked at the man that witnessed it all.
"Get out of my way, Gibbs." His spoken words were harsh as he shoved past him and headed towards the right side. A soft hand grasped his wrist firmly before tugging him back with fire. He held back his cry of pain but just looked into his blues eyes and ripped his hand back. "What part of 'don't touch or hit me' did you not comprehend earlier?" his voice was venom as he turned to the weights once more.
"DiNozzo…" Gibbs called but got no response. "Tony…" His voice was softer causing him to glance back and stop.
"Back off, alright? I don't need your fucking pity." He spit with wrath. Seeing him not leave he rolled his eyes and barked out, "What do you want?"
Gibbs hated what was happening but knew it would take more than the whole NCIS and a few FBI agents to take him away from this. This was what he wanted, what he needed. Inside his dark green eyes, he saw Benji, ready to pounce and attack if you came too close. He hated seeing him like this; no one should ever look like this, let alone go through half the shit he put up with. Tony was strong, he knew that, but it was hiding away his weaknesses for so long and dealing with that every day that made him stronger. Ducky was right, Tony was the key to it, but he wasn't sure it was worth the consequence. So for now he would just let him walk through his own path, and have his six the whole way through.
"You're gonna need a back spot for that." His voice was warm, open, as he watched Tony's eyes search his. Then in one brief moment, a small imp smirk played on his lips yet in the blink of an eye it was gone and he was on his way towards the bench, leaving Gibbs standing in the middle of the floor. Tony turned around before he sat on the padded metal and looked out to him; anger still in his eyes but a flash was burning up a flame that was long forgotten.
"Well…? You gonna set me or what?"
Forgetting about the blood and the pain, Gibbs smiled as he walked over to the bar and placed 65 pounds on each side. He knew this nightmare wasn't over, nor would it be soon, but he wasn't going to leave him, not now, not ever. Tony wasn't going to spend the night alone tonight whether he'd like it or not. Tony always had his six, and now he'll have his. It won't be perfect, but as close as it gets.
Well? Please tell me what you think, because if it's not really that good, I'll just take it down. =/ . But please Review. =]