Chapter 10

Tony woke up with a jolt after seeing Milan's face in his sleep again. He rolled over quietly and checked the time. It was actually nearly 5:30. That wasn't too bad. Maybe he could still get some more sleep, but at least he'd slept through most of the night. He debated what would be the best course of action. Roll over and see if he could sleep immediately or do something to get him completely awake and then hope he could get back to sleep afterwards?

Then, he heard something else. He looked toward Tim's bed and realized it was empty. He started to sit up when he noticed the shape of Tim sitting on a chair by the window. Tony lay where he was, deciding whether or not he should say something. Had Tim actually slept? Or had he fallen back into the no sleep at night thing?

"Tim, you okay?"

He heard a laugh, but it was a little teary. Tony sat up.

"Tim?"

"Yeah, Tony," Tim said, in a raspy voice. "Or at least, I'm no worse than I was."

"Then, what's up?"

"It's stupid."

"You keep saying that, but I'm sure it's not true."

"I just had a bad dream, that's all," Tim said after a second. "I was just sitting up until I let it go and could try to sleep some more. What about you? I know I wasn't making any noise."

"Just...Milan, again."

"Why can't you stop seeing him? You said it's just his face. Why?"

"Because..." Tony hesitated. He really didn't want to be talking about this, but he had claimed that he was willing to and Tim was actually asking about something, so it was probably a good idea to say something. "...I was really focused on him, nothing else. It wasn't quite an obsession, but I just got so used to thinking about nothing else. It was like I'd lost something important when he killed himself, even though I hated seeing him. It was a relief to delete his picture off my computer, but now, I don't know what to look for."

"Something better?" Tim asked, softly.

"Yeah, and I thought it would be that easy, but it's not. It's getting better, just being away from it, but I can't forget his face yet."

"Yeah."

Then, Tim stood up and walked back to his bed. He lay down.

"I'm ready to try to sleep again," he said.

"Are you sure you slept?"

"Yeah. I slept. Not enough, but I slept...and I hope I can sleep some more."

"Me, too."

Tim apparently got down into his blankets. Tony lay back down as well and tried to quiet his mind and think about something else.

After a few minutes, he suddenly realized that Tim hadn't told Tony what his dream had been, what had managed to get him teary again. Had it just been the same problems he'd had or was it something different? He hadn't said anything about nightmares before.

But if Tim needed more sleep, now was not the time to push. Tony tried to relax and enjoy the fact that there was no driving the next day, at least, nothing substantial. They could just relax and enjoy San Francisco. He hadn't been here in years. He'd been left here a couple of times by his dad.

He fell into memories of wandering through Fisherman's Wharf and other places in San Francisco...and fell asleep.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim lay where he was, thinking about the dream he'd had. It wasn't often that dreams had the power to make him cry. Of course, given his state of mind right now, he supposed he shouldn't be surprised at blubbering about a dream, no matter how gut-wrenching.

He really didn't think he'd get back to sleep now, but he didn't want to keep Tony up. In fact, after a few minutes, he heard Tony's breathing even out. He was glad Tony was sleeping. He lay where he was for a while longer, but then, he got up again and walked back to the chair. Clouds had moved in during the night and were hanging low over the Golden Gate Bridge. He was hoping for a chance to zone out enough that maybe he'd be able to sleep, and, in this case, that was not going to happen while he was lying down in bed. He needed to be sitting up.

He sat there, staring out the window. It really was an amazing view, but right at this moment, Tim had found that he wanted to be home. He wasn't going to say anything to Tony who needed the time off and this would be a good day for him to recover from all the driving.

"Where's my mom?"

The question tore at his heart and Tim knelt down in front of the two children, trying not to let out how horrified and angry he was.

"I want to see my mom! Where's my mom?"

"I'm sorry, Justin," Tim said gently. "I'm really sorry."

"She died. Didn't she."

Tim looked at the older girl.

"Yes, Arleen. She did."

Arleen and Justin both started crying. Justin, only six years old, hugged Tim tightly and cried for his mother.

"Your dad is going to be here soon," Tim said, letting Justin hug him.

Arleen, who was almost ten, looked absolutely devastated. Where Justin's tears were loud, hers were silent.

"Why?" she asked.

Tim spared a hand to gently squeeze her arm.

"I don't know," he said. "I wish I did."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The sky was much lighter when Tony woke up next. He was glad to note that he felt a lot better. He stretched luxuriously before sitting up on the wonderfully-comfortable bed. Then, he grimaced.

Tim was asleep on a chair by the window, not in his bed. In fact, he looked like he was going to have a major crick in his neck when he woke up.

What time was it, anyway?

Tony looked at the clock and then blinked in surprise. It was almost 9:30 a.m. He'd slept a lot longer than he'd expected after his 5:30 waking. How had he not awakened sooner?

Then, he noticed that it was not a bright, sunny day. It was dark and gloomy. Figured. But then, that was one of the things San Francisco was known for. Fog. Maybe this would lift, maybe not. Either way, they were going to have a relaxing day and, hopefully, a good night as well.

For now, no matter how little sleep Tim had been able to get, he should probably wake up before he snapped his neck. He walked over to where Tim was sleeping, miraculously not snoring.

"Tim, that looks really uncomfortable," Tony said and shook him gently.

One snort escaped Tim's open mouth as he stirred and then started to sit up, not really fully awake.

"Wha-?"

"Isn't your neck killing you?" Tony asked.

Tim winced a little as he moved his neck around.

"What?" he asked again, only he got the whole word out that time.

"Why are you sleeping in the chair?" Tony asked.

"I had a bad dream," Tim mumbled, still not quite awake.

"You said that at 5:30."

"It was true, then, too."

"What was in your dream?"

"Nothing. Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah. But what was in your dream, Tim? And when did you get so good at changing the subject?"

Tim was now fully awake and he looked at Tony with a raised eyebrow. It was almost a normal expression which was nice to see, even if it was slightly irritated.

"I've always been good at changing the subject. You just didn't notice before."

Tony thought back and realized that, yes, Tim really was good at changing the subject. That he had noticed this time was an aberration, not the norm.

"Okay. I'll give you that. But what did you dream? It must have really bothered you to have you sleeping in the chair and not in these great beds."

"Do you want to shower first?"

"No. I want you to tell me what you're trying not to tell me."

"I don't have to tell you everything in my life, Tony," Tim said, with some heat. "I'm allowed to have some things be private!"

"Hey! Come on," Tony said. "I'm not asking so I can tease you for it or anything. I'm just worried."

Tim took a deep breath and visibly calmed.

"I dreamed that..." He stood up and turned fully toward the window. "...that I was dead, that I was lying in my coffin, and I could hear Tommy crying and asking for me, wanting to know where I was, when I'd be coming back. And it...bothered me, okay? It...really bothered me, and I didn't want to be lying in bed, feeling like I was in a coffin." He took a breath. "That's all."

"That doesn't sound like all, Tim. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize. It's not your fault that I'm a nutcase."

"You're not a nutcase. That would freak me out and it's not even my kid." Tony hesitated. "Do you want to head back today?"

Tim shook his head. "No. I want a day where we're not driving. Delilah wanted me to call home this morning. She's not working and they'll be home."

"Then, I'll shower first, and you can do that. It's not going to be morning in D.C."

"Yeah, I know."

Tim took another breath and walked over to the table where he'd set his phone before. Tony watched as he sat down on the bed and stared at it. Then, he decided to get in the bathroom quickly to give Tim a little bit of privacy. It was telling that he had resisted telling a dream and complained about having to talk about everything. Situations like this led to probing, but Tim was right. He did have the right to some privacy. He grabbed some clothes and hurried into the bathroom, closing the door and turning on the fan.

The bathroom was as luxurious as the rest of the room was. Very nicely appointed.

Worried or not, Tony decided he would take his time and enjoy this.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim sat, staring at his phone until he heard the fan go on in the bathroom. He wasn't sure he wanted to call at all, but he definitely didn't want an audience. He wasn't sure whether or not he'd be able to maintain his composure when he talked to Tommy, not after his dream. Still, he had promised to call and he would.

One more sigh and he dialed.

Delilah answered on the first ring.

"Tim, you called!"

"I said I would."

Tim heard something faint in the background and Delilah laughed.

"Yes, Tommy. It's Daddy. I told him you would be calling today and he's been asking for you every five minutes."

His dream pricked at his mind again and Tim felt himself choking up.

"I'm sure," he said.

"Tim, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I..." Tim stopped, not wanting to share that painful dream.

"Tim, you're starting to scare me. What is it?"

"I had a dream last night," he said, almost whispering.

"What was it?"

"I was dead and Tommy was asking for me to come back." He stopped. "...like... Admiral Jenkins' children...after their mother was killed."

"Tim..."

"I want to hear him, Delilah," Tim said, trying to stop the tears again. "Really. I do."

"Okay. I'm going to put it on speaker phone. Tommy, come over and talk to your daddy."

"Tommy, are you there?" Tim asked, still feeling teary.

"Daddy! Daddy, come home!"

That didn't help Tim stop crying.

"Tell Daddy what you did this morning, Tommy."

"Daddy, went potty! By myself!"

Tim laughed a little.

"That's great, Tommy," he said, swallowing his tears as much as he could.

"Daddy, come home! Show you!"

Again, that plea just tore at his heart like nothing else could.

"In a f-few days...Tommy," Tim said. "I'll be home, soon."

"Now, Daddy! Love you!"

"I can't be h-home y-yet, Tommy," Tim said, stammering. "But I will."

"Tim, is everything okay?" Delilah asked. He knew she was worried about how he sounded, but she didn't want to make Tommy afraid.

"Y-Yeah. We're going to take today to recover from the driving and then, we'll head back tomorrow, but we'll be going on I-80 so it'll be faster," Tim said, calming a little. "Nothing to stop for."

"Good. Tim, I've really missed you, and I want you to come home, too...but I'll be more patient than Tommy is. Right, Tommy?"

"Daddy! Daddy! Love you tons!"

"I love you, too, Tommy," Tim said. "I've missed you. Both of you."

"Tommy, go play, okay?"

"Bye, Daddy!"

"Bye, Tommy."

"Tim..."

"I'm sorry, Delilah. I've made things miserable for you, I know."

"No, Tim. Not miserable. I've just been worried."

"Which made you miserable."

"A little. But you sound better, Tim. I don't know what it is, but it's not the same as it was yesterday."

"I can't say that I feel any better."

"That's okay. I don't expect things to be good right away, but I think they can be. ...if you'll let them be."

"I'll have to let you feel that way. I can't."

"Okay. I will. You'll be back by the end of the week?"

"Yeah. I think so."

"Good. I love you, Tim. I really do. It's going to take more than this to get rid of me. We made a promise to each other. Better or worse, Tim. I meant that."

"I love you, too," Tim said. "Bye."

"Tommy, come and say bye to your dad!"

Tim heard thumping feet and then...

"Bye, Daddy! Come home! Love you!"

"I love you, too, Tommy. I want a hug when I come home. Okay?"

"Hugs!"

"Bye, Tim. Keep calling, okay?"

"I will."

"Bye."

Tim hung up and lay back on the bed. He did wish he was already at home, but he also didn't want to be home at all. He knew it was a contradiction, but he didn't care that it was. He was glad to have talked to Tommy and heard him happy instead of crying like he had been in his dream.

He lay there until he heard the fan go off and Tony came out of the bathroom.

"That is one of the most amazing showers I've ever had, Tim. It's your turn. Or you could have a bath. That looks good, too."

"Okay."

Tim sat up and grabbed some clothes. Then, he walked into the bathroom.

"Don't take all day," Tony called behind him. "We haven't even eaten breakfast yet!"

"Okay."

Tim went into the bathroom and even he could admit that this was pretty amazing. He hadn't had a bath in a long time. He was usually showering in a hurry, not lingering in his morning ablutions.

For some reason, the idea of taking a bath was really appealing. He turned on the faucet and watched as the water started to fill up the tub.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony heard the water going and he smiled. Tim was taking a bath. That was kind of funny. He hadn't really been serious, but they weren't in any kind of hurry. They had all day.

Was it a good sign that Tim was doing something like take a bath? Probably not, but Tony would pretend it was.

For now, he would figure out where they'd go for breakfast or if they'd just stay in the hotel. The weather looked gray and gloomy, so maybe they wouldn't want to go outside at all. That would be all right, too.

Breakfast, first.