Part 8

It was the sound of his phone ringing that finally woke Tony from his fevered dreams. He blindly fumbled for his phone and somehow managed to find the answer button. When he finally managed to speak, he was surprised by the hoarseness of his voice; Tony sincerely hoped that it wasn't Gibbs who was calling. "Hello?" he rasped.

"DiNozzo?"

Crap! Of course it would be Gibbs; who else would call him at this ungodly hour? He squinted at his clock to discover that it wasn't as early as he had believed it to be; Tony realized that he had been asleep for several hours, but he still didn't feel rested. The young man knew he could attribute his fatigue to the illness that seemed determined to plague him and the nightmares that haunted him. Something was going to have to give; he couldn't keep up the façade much longer.

Clearing his throat, he answered, "Hey, Boss."

"You sound like crap; I can only imagine what you look like."

"Sorry," Tony apologized. "I just woke up."

"Really?"

Why couldn't Gibbs leave well enough alone? He realized that the team leader was showing his concern in his own unique way, but at the moment, Tony just simply didn't have the energy to concoct a lie to hide his obvious discomfort. His boss could see right through him; Gibbs always knew when he wasn't being completely honest.

"Just a cold," he finally admitted.

"Ducky needs to check you over," Gibbs insisted.

"I know," he relented, too tired to even offer the slightest protest. "I'll come by later today."

"You stay put; Duck will make a house call."

Tony despised the extra attention that Gibbs believed to be warranted; the agent hated appearing weak, especially in front of the team leader. He just wanted to be left alone so he could sleep off whatever bug was coursing through his body, but Tony knew that his wish wouldn't be granted. "Gibbs, I…"

"No argument."

"'kay," he mumbled, knowing that he had been beaten.

"Other than being sick, how are you?" the older man asked.

"Tired." He stifled a cough, not wanting to give the Marine something else to worry about.

"Any nightmares?" Gibbs pressed.

Tony's gut instinct was to tell his boss that he had slept like a baby, but Gibbs would never believe it, especially after witnessing his episode last night. He realized that the seemingly omniscient team leader was aware of the fact that his dreams had been haunted by memories that Tony couldn't explain. "A few," he sighed. "I don't really remember anything about them; truthfully, I'm not sure if I would call them nightmares."

His mentor probably already thought he had lost his mind, and he didn't want to add fuel to the fire by telling Gibbs that he constantly felt like he was drowning or about the scared little boy who seemed to be forever etched in his mind. Tony wiped his brow, knowing that the perspiration was indicative of the fever that was taking its toll on his body.

"Then what would you call them, DiNozzo?"

"I don't know, Boss. I wish I did."

"Have you talked to Dr. Cranston this morning?"

"Nope. Like I said, I just woke up not too long ago, but I'm sure she'll be calling soon." At least Tony hoped that she would. He was at a loss to explain the connection he felt to Rachel; his only reasoning as to why he felt so at ease around her was the relationship that he had shared with her sister. Kate would always hold a very special place in his heart; there were days that he still thought about her and how things could have been different if only…

Pushing those thoughts from his mind, he forced himself to concentrate on what Gibbs was saying. Tony didn't need to open up that particular Pandora's Box; he had enough guilt to deal with at the moment.

"Ducky and I will be over as soon as we can get away," Gibbs declared.

"I'll be here."

"You better be."

The line went dead and Tony knew that Gibbs had hung up. "Where else am I gonna be?" he mumbled. Slowly sitting up, he closed his eyes against the dizziness that was assaulting him. Maybe getting up wasn't such a good idea; if it wasn't for the fact that he was going to have company, Tony probably would have crawled back under the covers and stayed in bed. It was that temptation that allowed him to surmise that he must truly be sick. He usually functioned on a minimal amount of sleep and the fact that he wanted to sleep should have concerned him, but he was too tired to care.

A knock at his front door quelled any ideas he had about going back to bed. Pulling his comforter around his shoulders, he slowly made his way down the short hallway and through the living room to the front door. "Wonder who that could be. Even Gibbs doesn't drive that fast." He absently rubbed his throat, frustrated by the hoarseness that had taken place of his normal voice.

Looking through the peephole at the identity of his visitor, he was almost disappointed when he saw that it wasn't Gibbs or Ducky standing outside his door. Tony's gut wrenched at the sight of his father; his dad was the last person that he wanted to see, and to make matters worse, his old man had brought along someone with him. He rarely met any of his dad's business colleagues or friends; why did Senior feel the need for him to do so now? Knowing that the elder DiNozzo wouldn't leave until he had completed whatever business had brought him to the apartment, Tony reluctantly opened the door.

"Dad," he quietly greeted. "What are you doing here?"

"You look like crap, Junior," Senior stated, pushing his way past Tony into the apartment.

Tony stood aside as the other man fell into step behind his dad. He felt like he should know his dad's associate, but he couldn't put the face with a name. "So I've been told," he shot back. The agent wasn't in the mood to talk to his father, but as he knew all too well, Senior didn't care what he wanted.

"I knew that you were sick last night when I was here," his dad said, placing a grocery bag down on the counter. "You probably should have gone to the emergency room."

Tony stared at his father, confusion etched upon his exhausted features. Senior was openly demonstrating actual concern towards him, prompting him to feel his forehead to see if his fever had climbed high enough to cause him to have hallucinations. The fact that his dad had been carrying a bag of groceries only served to exacerbate the feeling that something was amiss with the situation; Senior had never carried anything but his brief case his whole life. "Dad? Why are you here?" he asked again.

"I was worried about you."

Yeah, right. Fortunately, those words never escaped his lips. Normally, he would have been able to come up with a sharper retort, but his mind was too tired to string the words together. Tony coughed into his arm as he made his way over to the couch, struggling to stay upright until he was able to collapse on the cushion.

"Do you remember Dr. Phillip Mabe?" Senor inquired. "He's…"

"I remember him," Tony said, finally able to place the face with a name. Dr. Mabe had been his father's personal physician for years, but he had no idea that his dad still had an association with the doctor. The only thing he truly remembered about Phillip Mabe was that he had been a constant presence in the house right after…

He stared at the doctor, trying to fill in the sudden blank that his mind had become. There was something nagging at the edge of his memory and Tony had no idea what that something was. What was it about Dr. Mabe that seemed to set off the alarms in the back of his mind? His gut was telling him that something wasn't right, but his muddled brain couldn't make the connection.

"I, uh…figured you would," his dad replied. Senior cleared his throat as he sat down on the edge of the couch. Tony should have been suspicious of his father's unusual display of concern, but it simply took too much energy to consider his dad's current motives.

Senior continued, "Anyway, Phillip and I ran into each other at the hotel and started talking about the old days. He asked about you, and when I told him about your heroic act and how I thought that you were getting sick from your unexpected swim, Phillip insisted on seeing you."

"Dad, I'm not up for a social call," Tony tiredly informed him.

"This isn't a social call, Junior; it's a house call. I thought maybe you would feel more comfortable with…"

"I've got a doctor and he's on his way over."

"Phillip is already here and…"

"No, Dad." He glanced up at the doctor, uncertainty and doubt still plaguing his thoughts. There was something about the physician that bothered him, but he simply couldn't put his finger on what that particular something was. "It's nothing personal, Dr. Mabe." Of course, he felt so bad that he didn't care whether the doctor was offended or not.

"None taken, Anthony. It has been a long time and I certainly understand your reluctance."

"Well, I don't," Senior fumed. "Phillip is just trying to help, Junior. I noticed that you were doing your best to hide the fact you were sick from Gibbs. I know you don't like to appear frail and pathetic in front of him; of course, why you're so worried about what he thinks is beyond me."

Tony flinched at his father's words. He hated to admit that his old man was right. Gibbs counted on him to be on top of his game and Tony knew he couldn't do his job if he were too sick. On the other hand, he still didn't trust his father; something was off about the whole situation. His dad was seemingly worried about his physical well-being and that in itself, was very unusual; for crying out loud, he had almost died from the plague and his father never even sent a get well card.

"Dad," Tony sighed. "Just…just don't worry about me; I'll be fine."

"Let him prescribe you an antibiotic at the very least and…"

"No, Dad! God," he cried out in frustration. "Why can't you just listen to me for once?"

Tony's outburst cost him dearly as he began to violently cough. Before he could protest, his father had moved, allowing Dr. Mabe to move beside him; the physician opened his bag and pulled out his stethoscope to listen to his lungs. Tony waved him off as he pulled the blanket tighter. "Leave me…alone," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the wheezing.

"Anthony! Let him help!" his father demanded.

"No. Just give…me…a minute."

"How about something to drink?" Senor offered. "I brought you some orange juice; your mom used to fix it for you when you were sick. Do you remember that? She used to squeeze it fresh; now, I didn't go to that much trouble, but I did buy you some with extra pulp."

Again, Tony was taken by surprise at the mention of his mother. However, his father's sudden interest in the past was just going to have to go on the backburner for now; he didn't feel like trying to sift through his father's hidden intentions. The young man nodded as he closed his eyes; his body was wracked with another bout of coughing. After his hacking fit was over, Tony could hear his dad and Dr. Mabe talking in the kitchen, but he couldn't make out what they were saying and truthfully, he didn't care. He just hoped that by acquiescing to his father's sudden attentiveness and drinking a glass of the damn orange juice Senior had brought, the man would be satisfied that he had done something useful and leave him alone.

He had no idea how long it was before his dad returned with the glass of juice. Tony wondered if his dad was trying to assuage his guilt for his actions the previous night. He almost laughed at that thought; his father never felt guilty about anything.

"Junior?" Senior called out, forcing him back to the present. "Sit up and drink this."

Tony did as his father instructed, surprised at how quickly he drained the glass. The juice was cool and it soothed his scratchy throat; he handed the glass back to his dad. Although he hated asking anything of Senior, he couldn't resist the hint of relief that that juice had provided. "More please."

"Of course," Senior obliged.

It didn't take long for Tony to down the second glass of juice. Handing it back to his father, he curled up on the couch, content to simply lay there until he felt better. He felt a cool hand on his forehead; his dad's hand was smooth, not calloused like Gibbs'. Senior's touch didn't comfort him as the team leader's usually did. The agent was uncomfortable with the physical demonstration of what could be construed as affection from his father; he couldn't handle the fact that after all these years, his dad wanted to have something to do with him. If only he had the energy to confront Senior about his intentions, but at the moment, his only thoughts were of struggling to stay awake long enough to ask his father to leave.

"Anthony, please let Phillip look at you," his dad pleaded.

"I'll wait for…Duck," he slurred.

He could no longer hold his eyes open. Tony felt like he was floating as his jumbled thoughts searched for something to hold onto. The ailing man shivered despite the cover around him as he heard Senior urging him to go to sleep.

"Everything is going to be all right, son. I'm taking care of everything; you won't have to remember."

Tony wanted to ask his dad what he was talking about, but he seemingly had forgotten how to form the necessary words. As he drifted towards the blackness of the void that was reeling him in, Tony could hear the hushed voices of his father and Dr. Mabe. What were they up to now? If only he could stay awake. If only…

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"I thought you said that he trusted you."

Senior glared at his old friend, his annoyance evident in his icy stare. "We're still working through some of our trust issues," he seethed. "So, we had to resort to Plan B; I underestimated Tony and I shouldn't have. He'll drink the juice and everything will be fine."

"You really believe that, don't you?" The doctor's voice was laced with disbelief. "He just downed two glasses of the juice; the drug isn't being regulated like before and if you're not careful, your son is going to end up dead."

"I've got it under control."

"No, you don't! This is going to come back and bite you in the ass!"

"That's why you're covering my ass," Senior reminded the doctor. "Now, you go on and I'll call you later. I want to make sure that everything is in order before I leave."

He ushered the physician out the door and then turned his attention back to his son. Tony truly looked like the child he remembered, innocent and unaware as to his father's manipulative ways. When the young boy grew into a teenager, Senior had come to realize that Tony wasn't as oblivious as he had first thought; that realization had forced an ever-growing chasm between them that had yet to be breached. Now, his son was an adult who knew all too well what his father was capable of, yet seemingly tried to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Senior felt a pang of regret but managed to push it aside; there was no room for second-guessing himself. He was doing this for Tony and although his intentions may be construed by some as harmful, the elder DiNozzo truly had no choice in the matter; too much was at stake and he couldn't afford to have the skeletons in his closet discovered. "I hope that someday you can forgive me," he whispered.

Tony shivered again and Senior decided that he'd get his son another blanket; after all, that's what a caring father would do. He briefly considered if he was experiencing what some would consider to be fatherly instincts; maybe if he had listened to those instincts earlier in Tony's life, things might have been different between them. "No use wishing for what could have been."

He walked down the hallway into Tony's room. As he picked up the quilt on the end of his bed, Senior caught a glimpse of a box sitting on his son's nightstand. His curiosity was piqued as he opened the carton to reveal a collection of pictures. He instantly recognized the photographs of Tony as a child and of his wife before her untimely death; as Senior thumbed through the pictures, he came across one lone picture of Adam and Tony. Putting the picture back in the box, he put the lid on it and tucked it under his arm. He had to go through all these photos to make sure that there wasn't anything else that would allow his son to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

Making his way back to the living room, he put the box on the counter and placed another blanket on top of Tony, who still remained blissfully unaware of his presence. Slipping into the kitchen, he added the rest of the drug that he had used earlier into the remaining juice, hoping that his son would at least finish off the carton. Part of him couldn't believe that he was stooping this low once again; this definitely wasn't going to earn him any votes for father of the year.

As he put the juice back in the refrigerator, he heard a knock at the door. Quickly pocketing the empty drug package, Senior opened the door to find Dr. Rachel Cranston standing outside in the hallway. He despised this woman just as much as he did Gibbs.

"Dr. Cranston," he icily greeted.

"Mr. DiNozzo, I didn't expect you to see you here," she replied.

"I came by to check on Anthony. He's asleep right now, so perhaps you should come back later."

"I think he'll want to see me."

The last thing he wanted was to get into another argument with the shrink. She unnerved him and she knew it; Dr. Cranston seemed to be able to peel away the layers of his personality and he resented her ability to do so. He motioned for her to come in and then picked up the box lying on the counter. "Make yourself at home, Dr. Cranston; I was just leaving."

"So soon? I hope you're not leaving on my account."

"Don't flatter yourself. My son needs to rest," he reminded her.

"He must be very tired; Agent DiNozzo isn't a heavy sleeper," she pointed out.

"And how would you know about my son's sleeping habits?"

"Observation," she coyly replied.

He decided that it wasn't in his best interest to play games with the doctor. "Like I said, he's not feeling well and he's exhausted; I'm letting him rest and you should do the same."

"I won't stay long."

Senior wasn't sure that the doctor believed that he was concerned for his son, but he wasn't about to stick around and find out. "If Junior wakes up, please tell him that I'll call him later and check on him."

"Of course," she answered, her gaze riveted to the package in his hands. "What's in the box?"

He turned and smiled at the doctor. "That, my dear, is none of your business. Have a nice day."

Without waiting for a response, Senior headed down the hallway towards the elevator, grateful that he had managed to avoid what could have been a disaster. He knew he would have to keep a check on Tony without raising the suspicions of his son's friends; somehow, he imagined that was going to be easier said than done.

My many thanks to my awesome beta, AZGirl; any remaining mistakes are mine. Thank you all for your continued patience! I'm getting ready to go to the beach but I'll have some updates ready when I get back! Again, thank you all for your support and encouragement! You have no idea how much it means to me!