1 day earlier
He enters the men's room to be greeted by the sight of a shattered mirror and the sound of retching. He opens one of the stall doors and finds his senior agent kneeling in front of the toilet seemingly throwing up every meal he's recently consumed. He is clutching something tightly in a bloody fist, an alarmingly large shard of glass protruding out of it.
Well that explains the mirror.
What it doesn't explain is what has brought out such an intense reaction from the usually composed man. This overly emotional display was unusual for Tony, especially in a place where it could be so easily witnessed.
His concern just went up a notch.
He wanted to talk to him yesterday, but he decided to put it off. His feelings of frustration and sadness at DiNozzo's inability to let him in, were bubbling to close to the surface and he knew they wouldn't be well received. He had to approach this with caution, had to be calm and composed and completely in control of himself. One wrong step and the other man would flee as fast as he could. It would be a delicate discussion, Tony could be stubborn as hell and if he was being honest, he was scared of what might be revealed.
Now watching the man cough pitifully and take a shuddering breath, he wanted to kick himself for letting it get to this point, for leaving it for too long. For allowing whatever was hurting Tony to continue destroying him from the inside out.
For leaving him alone.
The one thing he wanted to teach his friend he didn't have to be.
Tony, apparently still unaware he had an audience began to slowly turn himself until he was resting against the wall, eyes closed, head bent forward, his whole body shaking, he looked broken.
Judging by the tear tracks on his pale face, he felt it too.
His heart clenched painfully at the thought of his boy in so much pain.
"Hey"
His voice was quiet and soft, but that didn't stop Tony from reacting strongly. His eyes flew open and he immediately reached for his gun, flinging himself to his feet. His breathing was rapid as he pointed his gun in his face.
He saw the minute comprehension lit up in his agents eyes.
"Gibbs"
"Easy Tony, put the gun down"
He complied by simply allowing it to clatter to floor, his exhausted body following it, as he slumped back against the wall.
He had never seen him like this before, so vulnerable, so silently shattered. It was unnerving, and he didn't know what to do, he knew what he wanted to do of course. He wanted nothing more than to wrap him up in his arms and absorb all his pain from him, but that wasn't really an option.
He settles for sitting beside him and wondering what the hell to say.
Wary green eyes track his movements, and he can tell Tony is weighing things up, always thinking, always calculating, he apparently reaches some sort of conclusion because he suddenly drops his head onto his shoulder. He manages to contain his shock at the gesture, he manages to conceal his surprise at the way he was seeking out comfort. Something he has never done before.
He realises Tony has yet to speak, except his strangled sounding 'Gibbs' it dawns on him that he hadn't made jokes or lied, he wasn't putting up his barriers or misdirecting the situation. He wasn't trying to pretend that he's fine.
That makes him feel disgusted at himself for waiting to approach him. He allowed his own feelings, his own cowardice to get in the way of what needed to be done. For Tony to not even fight this, means he must be desperate.
He wraps his arm around his agent's shoulders, and has to hold back his urge to let his tears mix with Tony's as the younger man buries himself even further into to his body. This is what he was desperate for, comfort, any comfort, desperate for someone to just be there. No words needed,
He tightens his grip and wills himself to remain strong, he has to be.
Tony's strength has finally given out and he is falling apart. After so many years of being seemingly indestructible, the effort of maintaining the front has finally proven too much, and now he was free falling, spiralling towards the bottom, fast.
It was time to at last find out what was wrong, to find out just what it is that has Tony flying right of the edge.
He can only hope he cdan catch him and minimize the crash.
It was time to put voice to the question he should have asked days ago.
"What's wrong son?"
It didn't go down very well.
Tony immediately sat up and scrambled away from him, he stared at his agent and he couldn't help but flinch at the look of sheer despair on his face.
He made a painful choking sound at the back of his throat before returning his attention to the basin, resuming his earlier activity of throwing up.
He rests his hand and DiNozzo's back, another mistake judging by the way he flinches away at the contact. He feels utterly hopeless now.
He finally stops retching and he can see how close to passing out he's becoming.
They weren't going to solve anything on a bathroom floor, and that hand really did need looking at. He hauls the younger man to his feet, keeping a firm grip on him as he sways and he notes that his grip on whatever he is holding hasn't lessened, even when aiming a gun at him, despite how much it must hurt.
He supports the majority of his weight and begins to slowly lead him away from the scene of complete desolation.
"Let's get you to Ducky"
That sentence would usually set off a series of assurances about how very fine he was. No medical attention needed.
This time there was nothing, not one word of protest as he dragged his unresponsive agent into the elevator.
The silence was scaring him.
...
He doesn't remember getting to autopsy and that scares him. If there is one thing he truly despises it's not being completely aware of himself, completely in control of his actions. That's the reason he doesn't really drink. Not the only reason of course, but it's the one that makes him feel less pathetic. Oh of course he's come into work with a few 'hangovers' but that's just to keep up appearances, he can probably count on one hand the amount of times in his adult life that he has actually been drunk. It's easy enough to fake.
Considering the fact that he is in autopsy, meaning at work, he doubts alcohol is the cause of his hazy memory.
Then it hits him, dragging him under like a flood. The echoes of frantic terror, anger and the sound of glass smashing, clinking against a porcelain sink. The semi awareness of the presence of his boss, he feels his cheeks flush red as he dips his head down in an effort to hide his embarrassment.
"Anthony, I need you to open your hand, if you hand me that paper I will be sure to keep it safe"
He looks up to see Ducky staring at him with gentle eyes, too compassionate to hide the worry.
He justs transfer the reason for this FUBAR situation to his other hand and blocks out the doctors sad sigh as he sets to work on his injury that he is too numb to feel.
Gibbs is there, silent, watching him intently, studying his bloodshot eyes and trembling form.
How could let himself appear so weak in front of this man?
He just wants to escape, to leave and hide himself away, he thought he was strong but he really can't deal with this.
He feels uncomfortable under the scrutiny and wishes Ducky will be quick in patching him up.
Like that matters.
Like he's getting out of this one.
...
"I'm telling you Gibbs I'm fine"
"And I'm telling you DiNozzo, it's the ER or Ducky"
"I'm fine!"
He gives that look again, the glare that demands agreement whether you want to give it or not.
Let's face facts here, he is getting checked out, he has no choice about that, but he does get to choose the lesser of two evils.
"Ducky"
He uses his most sullen tone, but his boss pays no attention as he directs the elevator to autopsy.
The doors open and for a moment he just stares at the shiny tables. The tables where the bodies go, he suppresses a shudder.
But Gibbs is out already and he is losing patience fast, he may have only known the man a few months, but he can tell he's getting ready to blow.
"Move it!"
Well that's a tone no sane person would ignore. Could he plead insanity?
"On it boss"
"Ah what can I do for you two gentleman?"
"DiNozzo had a little run in with a suspect, need you to look him over"
He opens his mouth to once again announce that he is fine, but that look is back so he shuts it again.
"Oh dear, well hop up dear boy"
He pats one of the shiny tables as he says it. Oh god.
But up he gets, with a bit of difficultly he has to admit. Just how hard did that bastard hit him?
"Where does it hurt Anthony?"
"His ribs duck"
"Well I'm getting to be a good ventriloquist, I bet you didn't see my lips move, did ya Ducky?
Ducky though just ignores his attempt at humour and tells him to take his shirt off.
He suddenly feels distinctly uncomfortable, not about being treated by a ME, and not about being shirtless in front of him, but because Gibbs is making no move to leave.
"You have somewhere to be Boss?"
"Nope"
Right, of course he doesn't.
He undoes his buttons and tries to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach.
His secret is not going to be a secret anymore.
It's harder than it should be to slip his arms out of the sleeves and after watching him struggle for a minute, Gibbs stomps over and yanks it off him.
He doesn't need to be looking at him to know the exact moment he sees the scars, he can sense the complete stillness that the older man has gone into. He feels a light touch trace what he knows to be the most distinct red line marring his back. He doesn't even try to think of a story, they are too old to be from anything other than childhood, that doesn't mean he can't play it downplay it though.
"Boss its noth..."
"Don't you tell me it's nothing"
He comes to stand in front of him and he sees the one thing he never wanted to see in Gibbs eyes. Pity.
He is not the victim anymore, he doesn't need people feeling sorry for him.
"There're just scars"
The look on his face speaks volumes and he prepares himself for an explosion of the Leroy Jethro Gibbs variety.
"Jethro, young Anthony still needs to be treated, that bruising looks quite nasty I'm afraid, perhaps some coffee would be in order?"
He just stares in amazement as Gibbs spins on his heel and stalks out.
He tries to think of something to say to ease the atmosphere, but comes up empty. Even Ducky doesn't seem to have a story to share, not this time.
Ducky's just about done taping up his 3 broken ribs, when he decides it's time to cut the silence.
"You can trust him you know Anthony"
"I do, with my life"
He isn't lying, he is very aware of the fact that Gibbs has his six.
"In the field perhaps that is true, but I was talking of a more personal nature. You may trust him to 'have your six' as you say, but you do not trust him in regards to yourself"
He must sense his confusion because he continues.
"There is a difference between entrusting your life to someone in the field and simply trusting them. I know it must be difficult for you after your own experiences, but if you never believe that people care for you, you will end up leading a rather lonely life I'm afraid, Gibbs may be many things but he is not a callous man, he would never turn you away my dear boy. Try and remember that"
"I...I...Uh.."
He is suddenly extremely inarticulate.
"Pop your shirt back on Tony"
He does as he is told.
'He would never turn you away'
No he won't because he wasn't going to give him an opportunity to. He isn't going to drag up his demons just because his boss saw some silly old scars.
He'll take a breath, paint on his smile and pretend this never happened.
Hopefully Gibbs will follow his lead and just let this one go.
...
Gibbs never did question him that day, or the next, not that he needed to, they aren't really many explanations for having whip marks on your back.
But Gibbs never asked, so Tony never told and they moved on from the incident without a backwards glance. That's not to say he didn't notice the way he neglected to head slap him for a week afterwards. So he pulled out all stops became his most annoying self, he goaded and he pushed his limits, desperate to gain back normalcy. He couldn't bear being treated any differently just because of his fractured past.
"All done dear boy"
"Actually Duck, it's just about to get started"
He can see the determined gleam aimed in his direction and he knows that this time, he's going to have to talk.
But he just can't, he can't get the words past his lips, so he wordlessly hands out his letter.
Dear Anthony,
I believe it is time for us to catch up, it is time to go back to having a relationship.
How is Washington?
I'll be sure to drop in on you soon.
Regards,
Your father.
To anyone else it would be nothing, a simple note from a father saying they miss their only son, to him it is so much more sinister. To anyone else it would be a good thing, to him it brings an over whelming sense of fear and dread.
"This why you been sleeping here?"
Is it? He only read it hours earlier, was he really so scared of a letter he didn't even open?
"Yes boss"
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"I only opened it last night"
"But you knew what it was, you should have come to me Tony"
He knows that, at least he knows that now. If he could have just gotten over his pride, maybe he could've handled this better.
"Go home"
He can't be serious.
"No boss"
"Pack a bag"
"What?"
"Go pack a back, you can stay with me until we figure this out, you're not alone in this Tony"
Then why does he feel it?
Will Gibbs really tend to an unstable agent?
Will he really accept all the baggage he brings?
Will he really take care of him?
"Tony, go get some clothes, movies, whatever you need, I've got your six"
He really has not options left, and to be honest he wants so badly for someone to look after him, to tell him it's going to be okay, he's tired of fighting his battles alone.
"Okay"
He must sense his lingering hesitation, his reluctance to actually stand up and go.
"You want me to come with you?"
Too soft, too gentle, he is not a child and he is not fragile. He does not need his boss to hold his hand.
"No that's okay, I can manage."
God that voice is way to shaky to be his, he has to get himself in check. He cuts of his bosses impending protest with a terse,
"Seriously, I'll be fine."
He doesn't wait for a response before he heads towards the elevator.
He ignores his fear, he has no use for it.
Go home, pack a back, easy right?
...
A/N. Thank you for all the wonderful reviews and continued support, I had so many nice messages wishing me well and I appreciate every single one! You guys are all fantastic, thank you.