AN: Ok, so I wasn't going to post a new story until I -finally- finished the previous one, right? But the muse abandoned me on that one, and recently finished this one instead. So here it is. Massive mea culpas for not finishing last chapter of Plurality yet - I still plan to one day I promise.
This is a dark story and it's been ages since I wrote or posted - thanks to Scousemuz1k for the confidence-boost.
The timeline is endish-Season 11.
WARNINGS: Self-harm discussed.
Tony clenched folded legs a little harder to his chest, and took a deep breath of the early evening air. The wood paneling behind his back was still warm enough, but the concrete floor of Gibbs' front porch floor was really cold. It was like his whole butt was turning to ice. It was very distracting… right when he needed distraction…and needed to focus…and needed to get moving…and needed to close his eyes for just a minute.
What I need is to figure this out. Got to get at least one thing right.
There has to be a right way to tell him. There has to be a way to explain it so he's not mad. Or less mad. Maybe the order of things, or that I promised. I just have to start walking. I have to go.
Running both hands numbly through dirty shaggy hair, he held his head and tried to think clearly.
Gibbs glanced out the window towards the street while slipping a clean pillowcase onto his couch/bed pillow… and did a double-take.
What the hell is that brown furry… who the hell is out there?
He leaned over the back of the couch far enough to make out the side of a face. His eyebrows furrowed as he made for the front door.
What the hell is Tony doing sitting on the porch?
Caught in a never-ending loop between confusion and moments of absolute clarity, Tony never heard the floor creaking behind him or the door opening on his left.
The demanding voice full of irritation with a tinge of concern cut through his fog entirely.
"DiNozzo, what the hell are you doing?"
Without making a conscious decision, Tony could only feel out the right things to say. Maybe the right order would happen on it's own.
"Boss, I need tell you. Have to tell you before I start, because I owe you. But I didn't want to bother you until I got it together. Now is not the time to piss you off by wasting your time. You're going to be pissed enough anyway. So I've been trying to figure out the short version to explain…"
The haunted, lost look in Tony's eyes had immediately tempered Gibbs' irritation at his SFA sitting on the porch instead of just coming inside. The quiet, sad tone focused his attention entirely. But now, he needed to know what they were dealing with to cause this earnest rambling.
"Explain what Tony?"
"Why I have to leave."
Gibbs took a deep breath, and a mental image of a bomb to be defused flashed through his thoughts briefly. Leaving the door open behind him, he stepped around and sat next to the serious and exhausted looking younger man.
Quietly, he asked, "Is this some assignment?"
Derailed into confusion, Tony looked back blankly. "Oh, no. No Boss, nothing like that."
"Then what is it? And what is this crap about bothering me?"
Entirely willing to be distracted, and warmed by his Boss sitting just to his right, Tony was never-the-less embarrassed in his answer.
"Ah, yeah, that. Been trying not to just barge in on you anymore Boss. I finally figured it out. I know it was years too late… shouldn't have taken so long, and I was embarrassed as hell when I realized how I was sort of taking advantage… I mean yeah, you really wanted me gone you would have kicked me out, but let's face it Gibbs - deep, deep down you're a really nice person. You know, a good man, in your heart, not like…" he wound down to a quiet mumble before building up again.
"And I was taking advantage of that whenever I just showed up here, making myself at home, talking your ear off or watching you work downstairs, eating your food. You might have been planning on eating the second half of that steak the next day, you know? And did you ever crash at my place and eat my food? No, it was always me breaking rule 8 here and just assuming it was ok. Anyway, when I finally figured it out, knew you wouldn't want an apology, so I just… you know, amended my behavior the way you prefer."
Jaw clenching, Gibbs hoped his sigh was inaudible over the breeze rustling the leaves. Dumb-asses, both of us. So that's why you haven't been over in so long. And how's that working out for you Tony?
The younger man's hands were white knuckled over his kneecaps, "And I was doing everything right Gibbs, I swear. Knew I was in trouble and came up with rules to deal with it. And it should have worked, people get over this stuff everyday damn it.
And yet it still… I mean I did everything they tell you to do if you're sinking lower for no damn good reason. I mean what freaking original tragedy have I suffered? Compared to what you got through years ago, compared to scores of other people? Nothing what-so-damn-ever that's what! Just some ordinary, useless, mid-life crap probably, right? Just got to get the hell over it, right? So I know the drill, and I forced myself thru the hoops. You would have been proud Boss, I mean…maybe."
Running fingers through his hair he continued, "Anyway, I had rules and stuck with them: no more than one drink a night, bottle of beer or a shot. Some kind of exercise at least an hour a day. No sitting around the apartment listening to the world leave me behind - went out and tried to mingle, rode the city buses, played some pickup ball, went to some film viewings and live music. And I kept going to that men's group at the church… didn't talk about myself much, bet you wouldn't believe that."
The brief smile looked strangely spastic to Gibbs, but he was happy to see it nonetheless.
"It felt good to listen to the other guys and try to give good advice once in a while. Some of those guys have real problems, way worse than me. Puts things into perspective. At least it should have…"
Tony breathed in the cooling evening air for a moment. "And it all should have worked. It should have… I still don't understand why nothing … Because I still was just sinking. Clawing at the edges and if I managed to get a hold on the edge I couldn't seem to keep ahold of it."
Head shaking, his plaintive voice continued quietly, "Some days I could just barely get home in time… I mean I kept the closet. I've always…it…"
Gibbs could see Tony was getting worked up, and felt it was like when a suspect was finally going to spill the beans. Unlike one of those moments, he vaguely dreaded hearing what came next. Without conscious thought he started, "Hey, Tony…"
Loudly cutting him off, Tony couldn't stop talking now it seemed.
"Maybe it was a mistake to keep it, ok? But I needed it. You know DiNozzo's don't cry, right? But I literally couldn't always stop it when I was a kid, ok? It's just…it's the only place it's alright, you know? And some of the guys in the group would get all watery during the meeting, and there was all this 'it's good to let it out' stuff. So I thought maybe it was healthy to… you know. But it was just another stupid mistake of mine, because they don't tell you it only gets worse! You rush in there because one thing gets to you and another one crops up right after it!
I'm all leaky because it finally occurs to me that I was a hell of a lot more fond of Ziva than she ever was of me, when I realize that's really the case with everyone I've ever loved. I mean everyone. And then there's the realization that between me being both too standoffish plus too clingy, and then the standard annoying-as-shit, that's never going to change either. And then all the years I wish Dad had been a decent parent are just simply never going to come back, no matter what kind of god-awful effort we put into it until he dies, those years are just gone - forever - there is no fixing things anymore. And then I realize how much I miss everything I thought was the truth about my parents and my family and my life, how badly… " He paused for a second to sniff, tears rolling unnoticed down his cheeks.
Gibbs felt a little misty-eyed himself. Ah hell Tony… guess you don't need the closet now, huh kid. Wish to God I could fix this for you.
"And that's just middle-age crap! Don't think I don't know that Gibbs! Every single human on the damn planet has the same shit to deal with… but I mean it all sneaks in there. I really thought Danny was a damned good partner until the last week I worked with him. Ziva's eyes when she had me down to the ground with a gun to my chest. 'You'll do' and then 'you don't do it good enough'. Jenny dying under my protection. My apartment mocking me year after year because I picked it to impress Wendy and raise our kids in… And dozens more Gibbs, hundreds more things sneak right in. To where I flash on blue lights and drowning in a dry bed and actually wish it was that simple again, that I had Katie keeping watch over me and survival was very clear."
He sniffed and rolled to a stop finally, staring at nothing but the fabric over his knees.
Then there was a whispered, "Ah hell," and he shook his head slightly. "I didn't mean to go off on a tangent. Wasn't supposed to… dangit, screwing this up too. Just report already dumbass…
I just… I got surprised Gibbs. Barely held it together yesterday after we wrapped up that case and when I got home last night, or I guess this morning, I rushed into the closet without putting anything down. And there's the usual waterworks that seems to come from every part of my body. I mean, why does it take a whole body to cry? Why does it have to be so overwhelming?"
Maybe because stuffing it all into a closet isn't exactly healthy Tony, I don't need Ducky to tell me that. Gibbs said nothing for fear of stopping the now calm and disturbingly quiet monologue.
"So then it occurs to me I feel bad for whoever has to process the scene, because there's gonna be stuff all over the suits hanging above me plus the shoes and it's a tight spot to work in, you know? And the gun that was still on my hip is already in my hand and the safety's apparently already off. And then I worry about the trajectory and work out even if I had a shot go stray it won't go thru to any of my neighbors. And then everything would just be a lot tidier for the investigation if there was a note, but I hadn't written a note. So I'm thinking of where I've got a plain pad of paper to write on, you know, not a freebie with a repair shop logo at the top or something. And I'm putting down the gun to open the closet door to go find my stationary when it's like I suddenly catch fire. My skin's crawling and feels like it's going to literally set my hair on fire. And I only thought I knew what crying was all about before I tried to do it while scrambling to the toilet to barf everything not attached out of my body."
He took a few deep breaths with a shaking head before adding shakily, "I just, I got surprised Boss. So I have to go."
Throwing his arm over Tony's shoulders, Gibbs tightened his grip and took a stuttered breath himself. He could see everything Tony described, and was glad as hell to have the man alive on his porch. Better in pain than getting a call from Metro after it's all too late.
Throat rough, he rasped, "Where do you think you have to go Tony?"
"Made a promise. To a guy who didn't even like me much, but it was a good promise. My Dad's driver when I was 11 had to put up with me to and from school everyday. He never said much to me, but apparently he listened. I was having some trouble, it seemed obvious to me back then everyone in my life would be better off without me. I must have said something like that, and Juan actually stopped the car on the side of the road. He turned to face me and said to pay attention. He said, 'If you ever feel like you need to end things and you can't figure out any other way, then you end them…just not permanently. You can't figure out how to get things right, you do them over, somewhere else if you have to. Better to walk than die.' He made me promise and fished around in the glove box to hand me a map of New York State. Said to know my way if I ever felt I had to leave. It was the first map I ever really studied for personal reasons. Gave me something new to think about, imagine. Distracted me long enough to get shipped off to boarding school, which was kinda the same thing as walking - a new start. A new me."
"So I know I'm going to piss everyone off by just leaving, but it's still better than…" Head shaking, he exhaled a calming breath.
"Man, I really tried. I swear Gibbs, I tried to do everything right. But I screwed up somewhere," he sighed quietly.
"It's not like I'll disappear. Always figured I'd head south. I'll have my phone, you can get Tim or Abby to keep track of it if they have a moment. Every so often maybe I'll eat in a diner or something and charge it up, give you a call. If they…I mean, when NCIS cancels the account, I'll buy a burn phone and call you with the new number."
Rubbing his eyes and raking fingers thru his hair to bring it to some semblance of order, Tony sounded like he was wrapping things up.
"I'll try to figure things out. I'll try not to give up. If I get to the very end of Florida and I still haven't figured things out…I don't know, maybe it'll be time for walking out west? I…I just don't know yet. But I won't give up, I swear that to you."
Before Gibbs could formulate a plan, Tony had struggled to his feet and braced himself with a hand down to help his Boss up.
"Have a favor to ask, even though I hate to ask. Could you or somebody from the team go to my place and secure my weapons? I know it's just yet another black mark against me, but my gun is still in that closet and I don't really know if I got the safety back on. And I think I threw my backup into the bathroom cabinet under the sink. Passed out for awhile in the bathroom after all the… Anyway, I just didn't trust myself to even look when I was throwing things in my backpack."
Standing now, Gibbs didn't relinquish Tony's hand even as the younger man continued, "Dropped the fishbowl and food can off at my neighbor's door. She's taken care of them before. Then just walked over here to tell you what I could so you wouldn't waste any more time on me, thinking I'd been kidnapped or something. So I need to go now Gibbs. I'm so sorry to let you down, but I have to go now."
Using their connected hands, he pulled Gibbs into a half-hug with the intention of tearing himself away a handful of seconds later, grabbing his backpack from the front yard and heading down the street before the waterworks could start yet again.
Which was why he almost didn't hear the whispered words in his ear, "That's not how it's going to go down DiNozzo."
Leroy Jethro Gibbs brought many special abilities to his team, but none more valuable than his unflinching ability to quickly see the multiple possible outcomes of a situation, determine which was right… and which he could live with.
They sometimes were not the same thing.
As he was pulled into a glistening-eyed hug, he realized this was one of those moments.
He saw Tony walking away down the street and his gut told him he'd never see the younger man alive again. That he'd never make it to Florida. That the demons haunting him had "surprised" him once, they would easily ambush him in a diner bathroom stall just as easily as a closet. That finding another gun would be child's play for his ever-resourceful SFA. That he'd die alone, far from those that loved him, face down on a filthy urine-stained tile floor.
Entirely unacceptable.
He saw himself pulling Tony into his home, feeding and sheltering him. Ordering him to stay, hoping he would heal. Using the team to keep watch, give him the help he apparently needed beating the demons. His gut told him Tony would throw up his sturdiest masks around the team, out of embarrassment, out of a need not to keep others from their more successful lives a moment longer. That he'd fake his way thru therapy, pretend grateful relief to his friends for helping him through. That he'd end up right back in that damned closet, alone again, and this time pull the trigger.
Entirely unacceptable.
He saw himself doing the "right" thing - what it was his responsibility to do, as both DiNozzo's superior and next of kin. Talking Tony into starting out fresh in the morning, bedding him down for the night, calling Ducky and getting the ball rolling straight into a Bethesda psych ward involuntary commitment under threat of self-harm. He didn't need his gut to tell him that although Tony was rational enough to understand and agree with the reason, he was also irrational enough to see it as perhaps the greatest betrayal of his life. That the one person who could visit and help get him on track would be banned along with the rest of the team. That Tony would withdraw past any need to put a mask up for anyone. That when other attempts failed he would be started on a drug regimen which, encountering Tony's contrary physiology, would result in his SFA restrained and screaming. The demons mixing unrestrained with a thousand horrors from a career in law enforcement. A broken man eventually, even if alive.
Unacceptable.
He suddenly saw the only right option, the only one he could live with. And being that his gut agreed, it was damn well going to happen.
Acceptable.
One hand clasped between them, the other hugging the man hard, Gibbs spoke in a quiet command tone his second in command had obeyed in an almost equally grim situation years before. "That's not how it's going to go down DiNozzo."
Sure he now had Tony's attention, he continued.
"You're going to get your ass in here and get some decent sleep tonight. I'm going to make some calls and pack some gear myself. In the morning… we leave together."
He almost felt rather than heard the "Wait... what?"
Pulling back to look the confused man in the eye, Gibbs added, "Sometimes, leaving no man behind meant walking beside him, Tony. You've got it hardwired in you that you need to be moving to straighten things out inside."
Jaw clenched, he nodded, resolute.
"Then that's what we do."
fin