TRIGGER WARNING

Black & White Poof

Two days later...

It's funny:

How one day you're a trusted field agent and the next you're branded a liar.

An addict.

Someone unworthy to have your six.

Tony didn't need anyone finding out about his problem.

He had it handled.

The other night was just a slip up.

A one time thing.

It would never happen again.

He turned on the shower and stepped inside.

Tony worked narcotics for years as a police officer and investigator.

Wasn't much he didn't know about them.

He knew he was addicted.

He knew he was slowly losing control.

Losing his grip on reality.

People were counting on him.

Tony couldn't afford to break down like this.

At first it was just something to take the edge off.

No big deal.

No big deal quickly escalated into 8 long months of drug abuse.

The lines began to blur.

He began to cross the important ones.

Tony was no better than the people he arrested day after day.

This little accident could be chalked up to nothing more than a casual prescription med case gone wrong.

How Ziva figured it out...he had no idea.

Tony should have denied it.

Shut her out.

"Tony?"

A knock at his bathroom door.

But he was craving human contact ever since the incident with Jeanne Benoit.

Even though he didn't deserve it.

The knob turned.

It was locked.

Ziva rapped her knuckles against the door, "Tony the Director called. He would like to have a word..."

He gave no response.

Just letting the cool water run down his bare arms and torso.

His eyes closed.

"I will be gone for no more than 20 minutes, Tony. Will you be alright?"

This silence thing was becoming more and more common.

"...Tony..."

He heard a sigh and then a slight pause.

Ziva left and opened the front door.

He was alone.

For the first time in two days.

Tony frowned.

Ziva had been watching him like a hawk (or turkey vulture) ever since signing out of the hospital.

Did she really trust him that much?

Paranoia filled the man and he quickly turned off the water.

All of the oxygen left the room.

His chest felt like an elephant was sitting on it.

Tony wrapped a towel around his waist and opened the mirrored cabinet with shaky fingers.

...nothing.

All of his pill bottles were gone.

Andato.

Unattainable.

No.

NO!

Tony's breathing got harder.

It was close to hyperventilation.

'Calm down Anthony maybe she missed one.'

Right.

Okay.

Okay...

Just...look in your other hiding places.

See what she missed.

'It's Ziva,' he reminded himself.

Not helping.

He went over the bathroom with a fine tooth comb.

Still nothing.

What really pissed the senior field agent off was she took his blue square designer pills.

A new drug on the market called "Beautiful Blue Mystic."

Hallucinogens like that didn't come cheap.

A hot lick of anger went down his spine.

He slammed a fist into the wall.

He was sweating.

Was he sweating?

Tony hated the withdrawals for this.

Hate wasn't a strong enough word.

Loathed?

Abhorred?

Rancored?

Lets just say the withdrawals were never pretty.

It's why Tony kept it up as long as he had.

Not something you wanted to face.

Plus, as horrible as it was losing control, he didn't want to stop.

Ziva was there to help him move on.

Solve his problems.

Get things back to normal.

But in all honesty he had never enjoyed something this much.

Sex came as a close second but this...

This was something different.

Something that made him feel really weird and really happy.

Tony almost tripped over a cloud in his living room and thought Harry S. Truman was the first president.

Drugs were great.

His body craved the sweet, powerful release with a terrifying strong grip.

Tony had long since destroyed his fingernails.

He tore his apartment apart in a blind panic.

He needed to find it.

Needed to find something!

He would die without it.

Tony unleashed his inner demons and forgot all about leaving a mess.

He checked everywhere.

No.

No...

NONONONONONONONONONNNOO!

Razors, after shave, contact cases and deodorant flew out of the cabinet and Tony stared darkly at his reflection.

'Damn you Ziva.'

"TAKING ALL OF THINGS AWAY WILL NOT MATTER IF YOU ARE NOT OKAY INSIDE!"

He grabbed the nearest object and flung it at the mirror.

Glass shattered into a million pieces.

Tony was seething to a point he couldn't register the pain in his foot as glass sliced into his heel.

He paced back and forth, fist tightening, thinking nasty thoughts about his friend and co-worker.

Then a light bulb went off in his head.

Wait...

Please.

Please just let it be there...

Tony stumbled into the kitchen and poured out a pile of baking soda on the table.

He scooped some up with a finger and licked it.

'Thank God.'

Literally, this had to be some type of miracle.

Out of everything Ziva forgot his cocaine.

Tony guessed the Israeli didn't know.

Heck he wouldn't have guessed it either.

...okay he would have, but you don't want to think a close friend capable of such a thing.

Ziva couldn't have known he had gone this far.

In fact, the agent swore to himself it was a line he'd never cross.

Of course he was a human being.

Everyone had weaknesses.

And his had just gotten very, very bad.

But all invading thoughts disappeared as Tony grabbed a roll and snorted up the white powder like a starved, dying animal.

It was pathetic.

But he was desperate.

Tony inhaled it.

Welcoming the sudden shockwave effect it had on his brain.

'More...more..more..'

He emptied the whole box.

This was perfect.

It was pure bliss.

He grinned.

All he had to do was keep this a secret and let Ziva believe he was getting better.

His knees gave out.

Tony started laughing.

And crying.