Sometimes
I really like this one… The song is Sometimes by Skillet.
I get to work early. Earlier than I planned to. But not by much. Only about half an hour. Most people who know me wouldn't be too surprised. They would be today though. It's 0430 and I'm at work. Sitting at my desk. Tired as hell, but unwilling to go back to the apartment and catch a few more hours of sleep.
It's 0430 and I'm in the bullpen. At my desk. Looking like crap. Ready to face the day even though the sun has yet to rise. No one knows the real Anthony DiNozzo, most of the time that includes me. I'm good at deluding people. Everyone in fact, even myself.
Acknowledging that doesn't explain why I, Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, am in the office at 0430 in the morning, looking like crap, and not lying in bed with a pretty girl tucked under my arm.
It doesn't explain why my outfit isn't expensive, nor does it explain why my hair isn't perfect.
There is no case. The only people in the building are the janitors. Security doesn't arrive for another half hour.
What am I doing here?
Even as I ask myself the question, I'm formulating two responses. The honest one, for the small part of my brain that knows and keeps track of the mask, and the standard answer, for anyone and everyone who may or may not want to know, including the majority of my brain.
The honest one is that I can't sleep and I can't stand my own apartment. My own apartment, which almost always feels like a cage. The apartment, which is beginning to feel more and more oppressing. I can't sleep in it. I can't sit still. It makes me feel like a caged animal.
The standard answer, however, the one which I too will believe in about five minutes, is that this girl, who's name I don't know, knew that I'd slept with her little sister. She reset my alarm to go off at four and I couldn't get back to sleep. I decided to come in early.
What about the dark circles under your eyes?
I stayed out late clubbing. You know the drill.
But it's a work night. Don't you know better?
Well, I wasn't thinking about that, okay? Besides, usually the girls don't reset my alarm to go off at four.
Well how'd she know about you and her sister?
Does it really matter?
I guess not… But…
Seriously? Are you questioning my schedule?
Bases are covered. The story, sorry, the memory, is in order. Not that anyone will question me that far. It's just better to be safe than sorry, you know?
With nothing better to do, I decide to check my email. Empty my spam box. Throw away the junk in my inbox. Done with that, I put my head on my arms and relax. The bullpen, while very loud and bright when people are around, is quiet and dim at this hour. Just right for catching up on some much needed rest…
Sometimes when I lie
I know you're on to me
"DiNozzo… DiNozzo… Tony!" Gibbs says, albeit loudly.
I jerk awake with a start and jump out my chair.
"Yeah, Boss?" He gives me a brief once-over.
"You look like crap." He mutters, voice gruff, as he pulls out his chair and sits down.
"Thanks, Boss." Like I didn't already know that. I sit back down and glance back at my inbox, nothing new.
"What are you doing here?"
"What do you mean? I work here, remember?" I feel slightly anxious and I hope my emotions don't invade my voice. When I prepared for questions, I didn't prepare for Gibbs' questions. The harder ones.
"Vance gave us today off." I don't reply. Oops…
"Tony." There's a command in that voice. And I'll be damned if I don't look at him. "Are you alright?" His voice, gruff though it may be, is laced with concern. And, just for a second, that concern makes me forget my answer.
"I feel fine. Perfect. Why do you ask?" For the first two parts I make myself look pointedly at his forehead rather than his eyes. And for added effect, I make sure that my question holds just the right amount of curiosity and none of my nervousness. He can't know…
"DiNozzo…" It's a growl and a warning all in one and, if I hadn't already dropped my eyes, I would've in that second. Shame and lying can do that to you.
With a dejected sigh I drop my shoulders. Defeat.
"Not so good, Boss." I don't look at him; instead, I log out of my email and begin shutting down the computer.
Instead of expanding on that as I expect him to, he voices a previous question.
"What are you doing here, Tony?" I sigh again. I can't skirt this one, not with the truth already out.
"I couldn't sleep last night… I was going to come in at five but… My apartment isn't working out anymore… I need to move again…" I risk a glance at him. No anger. I turn fully towards him, as is proper for a conversation.
"Move?"
"Yeah. You know pack everything up. My lease is up anyways. Hell. Half my apartment is already packed."
"Where are you moving to?" His face is carefully blank. It's worrisome.
"I don't know. Somewhere close by. Don't want to have to drive for hours just to get here. That wouldn't be such a good idea. Not with our hours. Is that a problem?"
"No. I just thought… You know. When you said move… It's been more than a few years, you know?"
"Oh. I don't plan on changing jobs, Boss. I rather like this one. I like having your six, however difficult it may be sometimes."
"Yeah, well…"
"So… What are you doing here Boss? You know, with it being a day off and all?" He coughed, somewhat embarrassedly.
"… There's something wrong with my computer. I needed to check my email." I grin.
"What's wrong with your computer?"
"Hell if I know DiNozzo!" I chuckle and catch his slight smile even as he mutters curses under his breath.
We sit around for a few minutes in silence. Me somewhat awkwardly and him checking his email. When he's done he exits out of the browser and holds down the power button on his computer.
"Umm… Boss? I hate to say it, but I really don't think that's how you're supposed to turn the computer off." I offer.
"It hasn't had any ill effects yet, DiNozzo." I watch as he puts on his coat and turns towards the elevator. "You coming, DiNozzo?" He asks over his shoulder, not even slowing down. My eyes widen and I hurry to scoop up my jacket and catch up to the soon-to-close elevator.
Once in I relax against the wall and close my eyes… Only to have the elevator lurch to a sudden close.
"Boss?" I question. I really, really don't want to do this here.
"Not boss. We aren't on the clock."
"Well, Gibbs, then. Why did you stop the elevator?"
"I want to know what's going on with you. I want to know why you come in to work at five in the morning. I want to know why you couldn't sleep, why you couldn't relax in your own apartment. I want to know about everything you aren't telling me. No matter how small or inconsequential it may seem to you." He has me pinned to my place on the wall with a hand on either side of my shoulders. His voice is low, and while some may place the tone as a dangerous one, I know that there's only danger if I don't tell the truth. Whole and absolute. "I don't want to know about your nonexistent activities. And I don't want to hear about this being a 'one time thing'. You know as well as I do that this happens every single morning." I take a deep breath.
"I'm wearing black silk boxers today, and they feel pretty good." The tightening of his jaw prompts me to come up with a new answer and I open my mouth to speak. "Well-" The witty response dies in my throat when his eyes narrow dangerously, as though anticipating it.
For the second time today I allow my shoulders to slump and my chin to drop to my chest. Just for a second I consider giving in now. Then that second passes and I look back into his eyes. Swallowing the lump that forms at the concern I see there I answer.
"Can this wait 'til we get back to your place?" His eyes narrow further and, after a moment, he nods. And steps back. And flips the emergency switch. There is a brief spluttering hesitation where I think the elevator has finally had enough before we continue our descent to the parking garage.
I follow him to his vehicle. After a few steps he tenses, just a little. A few more. Then he turns.
"What about your car Tony?" He asks disapproving frown in place.
"Well, about that B- Gibbs. It was such a nice morning… I just couldn't resist walking here today." His frown deepens and he turns and continues walking towards his car. I scurry after him. "Bo- Gibbs. You know as well as I do that my building is only two minutes away."
He turns the key in the ignition and the car rumbles to life. I close the passenger door. "That's a two minute drive Tony."
"Fine then. A ten minute walk." I huff and turn to stare out the window, like an indignant child.
"You forgot the part where it's cold and dark."
"It's not too bad, Gibbs." 'Ts not like I haven't done it before…
"You mean it wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for your lungs." As soon as the words escape his mouth, I know that there is more to that matter-of-fact tone… And I'm not all the way sure I want to find out what more there is…
After that, we both stay silent for the rest of the ride to his house. I rest my head against the window and relax as best I can in the uncomfortable silence.
Sometimes I don't mind
How hateful that I can be
Upon arrival, we both exit the vehicle and head towards his door. We get in pretty fast, faster than I would've liked, because he doesn't lock his front door. And that eliminates the need to unlock said door.
He throws his jacket over the back of his couch on his way to the basement, and I follow suit, not wanting another reprimand, not from him.
He picks up some kind of sanding tool and gets to work, shoulders relaxing now that his hands are doing something productive. I sit on the steps, as I have many times before, while he works. I rack my brain trying to think of something to say that will appease him… anything to say that will appease him… just for a little bit longer… The problem, though, is that I don't know how to answer his question. 'I want to know why… And I don't want to hear…'
"Are you okay, Tony?" That question… He wants the truth but… I don't even know what the truth is. Am I all right? Probably not, or I wouldn't be here right now. But he wants the truth…
"No." My answer, though quiet, is harsh, filled with some emotion I can't identify. Some emotion I don't want to name. He stops sanding and puts his tool down before sitting down next to me. In his house. On his stairs. In his basement. And, somehow, that simple information is too much and I have to wipe at my eyes to get rid of the tears.
And, with a soft sigh that I'm not even sure I actually heard, he pulls me against his side. He makes me feel like a little kid who's wasting his father's precious time…
"Well, what's wrong then, Tony?"
"I don't know Gibbs. It just is."
"Maybe it would be better if you just be yourself, rather than that mask you work so hard to keep up with."
"Trust me when I say this Gibbs. No one wants to know me. Not the real me. Not the one who's so fucked up he can't stay in one place for too long or the nightmares will come chasing after him. Not the one who would prefer to stay home and watch a movie alone or go to work than go clubbing. Not the one who goes to sleep early and comes to work even earlier just because he has nothing better to do." I take a deep breath before I continue. "Not me, Gibbs. Him."
Sometimes I don't try
To make you happy
He's silent for a few minutes and I get the feeling that he wasn't expecting such an honest answer.
"I want to know you Tony." He puts it out like an offer more than anything else and the sympathy makes my vision run red, even through the tears.
"No, you don't. He's stupid and weak and doubts everything good. He's too honest and hurts people all the time. He's worthless Gibbs. Not even important enough to get to know." Gibbs grabs my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. I do so reluctantly.
"That he that you're talking about Tony? He's you. And no matter how much you don't like that fact; it's something that you need to accept. And, hear me when I say this, I do want to get to know him. I want to get to know you Tony. I want to know you and help you. I want to make those nightmares you talk about go away. I want to help you Tony."
I don't know why I do the things I do to you but…
Gibbs. He's loyal and strong and fierce. He has a horrible temper and needs coffee to function like a somewhat-normal human being. He's lost a lot but, somehow, has managed to let us all in. Not all the way, but just enough so that we usually understand him and, in return, he accepts us as his family. He's protective and sometimes overbearing, but always knows when enough is enough.
And…
I just keep letting him down…
Just keep disappointing this man who has lost so much…
"Why." I murmur and turn away. And I just keep doing it to him…
"Because Tony. You aren't stupid; I'm not even sure where you got that one. You aren't weak, either. Else you wouldn't be here right now. There's nothing wrong with questioning why people treat you the way you do; it isn't doubting good fortune. Most people just call it being blunt, Tony, not hurting people. If they can't deal with it, then that's one less person you have to put up with. And no one, and I do mean no one, who I will sit with in my house and have a good talking to is worthless." I don't respond… again.
Sometimes I don't wanna be better
Sometimes I can't be put back together
"There's never anything wrong with being yourself Tony."
"Yeah. Well." I stand up and stretch.
"How does lunch sound?" He calls behind him as he goes up the stairs.
"Considering the fact the it isn't even ten yet, pretty good." I turn and follow him, crashing into him at the top because I was staring at my feet.
"Wha-" I don't even get to finish before his lips crush against mine. Before I even have time to blink he pulls back.
"There's the answer to your question Tony."
And, for the first time in a long time, a real grin pulls at my lips and I hurry to catch up with him. Sandwiches and beer sound pretty good right now.
Sometimes I find it hard to believe
There's someone else who could be
Just as messed up as me