Gibbs had heard the car pull up outside, and abandoned his hand tools to make his way upstairs. He'd half-assumed they'd be coming in the door by the time he got to it, but as he glanced out the window, Tony was just getting out of the car.

After Tony shut the door and turned toward the house, his stance wavered and his hand shot out to support himself on the hood of the car. As Tim hurriedly made his way out to help him, Gibbs had made a quick pace out of the house toward both agents. "You alright, DiNozzo?" he asked as he took hold of one of Tony's arms.

"Fine, Boss," he replied breathily. "Just a little dizzy. Guess I shouldn't have skipped breakfast after all."

"Not to mention, throwing up whatever coffee you had as well," Tim said as he took his other arm. Gibbs shot him a glance that told him there'd be need for elaboration later.

"Hey," Tony shrugged his arms away from them, "I can walk; just had to get my balance. I'm good now," he tried not to sound as frustrated as he felt, and he made his way quickly toward the house.

Gibbs turned to McGee while they had the moment, "When?"

"On the way home," he told him. "He was out of it for maybe thirty seconds, when I was trying to get him to respond. I was asking him something, and he was just...spaced out. I pulled over 'cause I was worried something was wrong. And when he finally snapped out of it, he was opening the door and puking. Then he uh..." his eyes darted around for a moment before settling back on Gibbs. "He told me...his father blamed him for his mother's death and he believes it."

Gibbs nodded with a furrowed brow, "Well, now you know what's eatin' at him," he said.

"There's gotta be some way to convince him... We should find his dad and-"

"DiNozzo Sr had all the damn time in the world to apologize and tell him he was wrong, and he hasn't," Gibbs said bitterly.

"With all due respect, Boss... We have evidence against him. Shouldn't we find him and put him away for what he did to Tony?"

"Until Tony believes he was wrong, he's not gonna testify against him."

"Well then shouldn't we find him and kick his ass?" anger and frustration was clearly written on Tim's face and heard in his tone. Gibbs almost smirked.

"Think I haven't been considering it?" he cocked his head.

"I find it a little hard to believe you're not out there with your scope, tracking him down," McGee said.

Gibbs squinted at him, "Not my hit, McGee. That's Tony's call. You think he wouldn't be pissed if one of us went and fought his battles for him?"

McGee didn't know how to respond to that. Gibbs was right, but Tim's gut still screamed for the opportunity to avenge his friend. After several battles with conflicting emotion, McGee looked back at his boss, "How can I help him?" he asked.

Gibbs considered the question for a moment. "You can start by not doin' anything stupid," he said. "Tony's also a victim of abandonment, Tim. Best thing we can do for him right now, is be there; let him know how family is supposed to work. If he doesn't already know it, we aren't gonna give up on him." Tim nodded in acknowledgment as he glanced past him toward the house. "Come by later for dinner," Gibbs told him, and Tim met his eyes again. "If you're not doin' anything..."

"No...I mean, no, I'm not doing anything. Yeah, sure I'll come by. Should I bring anything?"

"Ask Ziva," he said before turning to head back to the house.

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Gibbs closed the door behind him, removing his coat; grateful for the warmth inside of the house. He glanced around as he walked, realizing Tony was half-curled up on one end of the couch; his eyes closed. But they cracked open when he heard Gibbs enter the living room.

"Sorry, Boss," he said sleepily as he began to sit up.

"You can sleep if you want," Gibbs said, stopping for a moment.

"I should probably go to the guest room..."

"If you wanna sleep on the couch, I don't care, Tony. Won't bother me."

"Okay," he said as he settled back down. "Just wanted to shut my eyes for a little while."

"I'll get you up when it's time for lunch."

"Thanks, Boss," he said, not wanting to argue about the fact that he still wasn't ready for food. Gibbs turned and headed back down to the basement, leaving Tony in silence to get some shuteye.

Tony was determined not to think about his parents. At least, for now...he needed a break from it; some kind of escape. Even if it meant thinking about the accident at the lake. The one other thing that had been on his mind...

The dream was eerily silent. He knew where he was; inside the car as it began to slide and teeter off the edge of the bridge. He tried to yell for help...knew he was still connected on the phone to his team. But the car fell...down into the water.

For a moment, everything stopped. It was dark...pitch dark and he wasn't in the car anymore. He was laying on cold pavement on his stomach, and he felt a cool puddle of water beneath him. Everything hurt...every part of him felt like it was on fire. But the cool water only seemed to make it worse, and the darkness terrified him.

Tony wondered for long moments, where he was. And he strained to hear; eventually beginning to make out small sounds. Some kind of machine kicked on. It was a familiar sound, though he couldn't quite place it in the moment.

He longed to push himself up off of the floor, but he couldn't move...it hurt too much. He began to wonder whether he'd actually lost the ability to see. Tony wanted to cry out for help, but something inside him was warning him not to make a sound...

*~.~*

Gibbs headed up the stairs and into the kitchen, glancing briefly at Tony's curled up form on the couch as he'd left it a couple hours ago. He hadn't noticed anything at that first glance, but when he'd finished making them both sandwiches and went back out to the living room to wake him, he saw the troubled expression that painted Tony's face, even in his sleep.

As he got closer and sat on the edge of the coffee table, Gibbs realized that Tony's breathing was shallow, and his hands were in fists crossed over his chest in front of him. He was, undoubtedly, having some kind of nightmare, Gibbs surmised.

He reached out to touch Tony's shoulder, "Hey," he said fairly quietly, but it was enough to pull Tony violently out of the dream. His eyes shot open and he immediately pushed himself up to sit, looking at Gibbs as if trying to determine that he was real. "You okay?" Gibbs sensed the redundancy of the question.

"Yeah," Tony breathed. "Just a...really weird dream." Gibbs narrowed his eyes, waiting a moment in case Tony felt like elaborating.

"You hungry yet?" he asked.

Tony's eyes darted around a moment before answering, "Suppose I should at least try." He waited for Gibbs to stand and head toward the kitchen before he stood to follow.

"So," Gibbs said as the sat across the table from each other with their plates, "How was your session today?"

"He went kinda easy on me after I told him why I'd missed the last couple weeks," Tony smirked before taking a bite of the sandwich.

"Was it helpful, I guess is what I'm tryin' to ask," Gibbs said before taking a bite into his own.

Tony tilted his head a bit before swallowing. "Talked about what happened in Garrett County," he told him. "Led into the stuff I remembered about my mom...didn't have much time to talk about it though," he took another bite of the sandwich, almost as if an excuse not to continue.

"How's your stomach?" Gibbs asked.

"Not gonna hurl on your table, Boss," he smirked.

"Good," Gibbs set his sandwich down and fetched a couple bottles of water from the fridge. "Ziva and McGee are comin' by with dinner later, if you feel up to it."

"Ziva's cooking?" Tony grinned.

"Possibly," Gibbs smirked at the unexpected response from his senior agent.

"Ziva's a good cook," Tony commented, and Gibbs nodded in agreement. "Not that...you can't whip up a good meal, Boss... This sandwich, for instance...very good!" he took a large bite. Gibbs shook his head with a smirk.

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Gibbs watched out the window for Tony, instantly regretting having given in to Tony's plea to allow him to go for a run. He hadn't been running in over two weeks, but his bargaining tool was the fact that he was supposed to be getting back in shape to work. He said he'd be back in less than an hour, but it was getting close to that time now.

Gibbs fought the urge to try and call him just yet. The last thing he wanted to do was to make Tony think he didn't have faith in him. But he had to admit to himself that he was, in fact, worried. In hindsight, he thought he should've at least gone with him. However, at the time, he thought maybe Tony just wanted to escape the questions for a little while. Gibbs hoped that escape wouldn't also lead to more health issues for his agent...

Just before Gibbs readied himself to go out after him, he saw Tony come around the corner, and breathed a sigh of relief. Tony wasn't running, however. He held his zip-up sweatshirt taught around him, the hood tightly pulled over his head, and his arms firmly crossed over in effort to bite off the cold air. Tony walked quickly toward the house, and Gibbs went to the kitchen, fixing the agent a cup of coffee to warm him up once he got inside.

He heard him come inside, shut the door, and shuffle his way to the roaring fireplace. Gibbs came into the room with a smirk and Tony's mug of coffee; Tony was on his knees, sitting on his heels in front of the fire when he looked up at him. "I really hate winter," he told his boss. "Have I ever mentioned that?"

"Possibly," he handed the cup to him.

"Thanks," Tony took the coffee, gratefully. "Kinda hurts to breathe when it's so cold out."

"You got back in one piece," Gibbs said, cocking his head.

"One giant, frozen piece," Tony shivered before taking a long sip from his mug.

"You've survived worse," Gibbs reminded him, and watched Tony as he started to laugh, but started coughing instead. Gibbs squatted down beside him and took the mug; a mask of concern washed his face at the all too familiar struggle.

"'s okay," Tony said between coughs, "Apparently, ...swallowing and breathing... got confused for a second," he explained as he looked at the concern in his boss's eyes. "Really, I'm okay, Boss," he said as he pushed himself up from the floor. "I've got what...an hour before Tim and Ziva get here?"

"Twenty minutes, actually," Gibbs said as he stood.

"Oh. Well, I'm gonna grab a hot shower; thaw myself out before they get here," he smirked before turning toward the guest room.

Tony hadn't had the heart to tell Gibbs that he'd thrown up the sandwich he'd made him for lunch. It was part of the reason it'd taken so long to get back home. He'd run a fair distance before the wave of nausea hit him like a ton of bricks, and he was thankful no one was around when he leaned over the bushes to expel the contents of his stomach.

Luckily, Tony had brought a bottle of water with him, and he was able to rinse out his mouth before trying to walk back to the house. There were definite moments he'd considered calling Gibbs to pick him up. But he was too damned stubborn to do that, and the determination to get back there himself, outranked it.

He really was hungry, and if he'd not insisted on going for a run, he probably would've been fine. There was no reason to worry his boss further, though. Tony was more than appreciative for everything Gibbs had done for him, but he felt like a burden.

If he wasn't so damned scared to, he'd just go home and leave Gibbs in peace. But he wasn't ready to be alone yet. When he was alone, he thought. When he thought...well, things just didn't end well. If that happened without someone around to pull him out of it, he might end up doing something rash. And he didn't want to hurt anyone by hurting himself.

As the hot water of the shower beat down on his back, he closed his eyes and willed it to help him relax. Happy thoughts...happy thoughts... My family. No, not them; my REAL family... They were all right here. They were always right here...

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"Hey, Ziver," Gibbs said as he opened the door and took the large covered dish from her hands.

"McGee is on his way," she told him as they made their way to the kitchen. "He will be bringing bread and drinks."

"I know this smell," Gibbs said as he set the dish down on the counter.

"Slow-cooked beef with potatoes and beans," she confirmed. "I felt...like I should make this for him, since he missed it the first time." Gibbs smirked at the comment.

"Something smells good," Tony said as he came into the kitchen; his hair still a little damp from the shower. His eyes met Ziva's, "Hey, Zi. Feelin' okay?" he asked.

"I am a bit sore, but I have had worse," she replied. "I hope you are hungry," she quickly diverted the subject.

"I am, now that I smell what we're having," he said as he made his way toward the dish.

"Hands off," Ziva playfully swatted his hand before he could remove the cover. "We are still waiting on McGee."

"You can help set the table," Gibbs said, handing him a stack of plates.

"Sorry I'm late!" they heard McGee come in the door.

"Just in time, Probie," Tony said as Tim came into the kitchen. "Whatcha got there?" he set the last plate in its place before grabbing the bottle in McGee's hand. "Merlot," he grinned. "Now it's definitely a party."

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Dinner had been over for more than an hour, and the team was gathered in the living room, equipped with glasses of Merlot and humorous reminiscence of past cases. Somehow the conversation had gone back to fond memories of Agent Todd, and the prank she and McGee had pulled when Tony was lying on the floor behind his desk.

"Tony was convinced she was seriously interested in him," Tim told Ziva with a smile playing on his lips, "Right up until she dumped water on his head." Gibbs shared a small laugh with McGee at the recollection.

"Yeah, yeah," Tony glared, "Hilarious! She got water in my ear...wasn't nice at all." Ziva laughed through her nose, but then narrowed her eyes at Tim.

"Not a very nice way to thank Tony for saving your lives," she said.

"Hey, it's all good," Tony defended. "I've gotten my revenge on several occasions, haven't I, McGoo?"

"Overkill, I'd have to say," Tim replied.

"Yeah...probably," Tony snickered. "But don't worry; karma's a bitch, and it knows exactly where to find me." He hadn't meant to end the playful banter, but the room had suddenly become quiet. So he flashed the infamous DiNozzo smile, "Come on, guys...don't let me stop all the fun."

"Guantanamo Bay," Gibbs smirked. Tony glanced at him for a moment, squinting as he thought back. Then his eyes widened a bit.

"Boss..."

"Woke up to you shouting from the other room. Kate and I bust in, weapons drawn. You're standing there in your birthday suit, aiming at an iguana," he couldn't help laughing at the recollection, and the others, even Tony, laughed with him.

"With your weapon, I hope," Ziva confirmed, causing the laughter to reignite. But it stopped when Ziva winced and grabbed the side of her chest.

"You okay?" Tony asked her.

"Laughter is supposed to be the best medicine, yes?" she said with a smile, then stood. "I just need some ice."

"I'll get it for you," Tony offered as he stood, but she followed him to the kitchen. Gibbs watched them go, then turned to Tim.

"You good to drive her home, McGee?" he asked.

"Truthfully...maybe in an hour, if I stop drinking right now," he replied. "Sorry, Boss..."

"Better safe than sorry," Gibbs cocked his head. "You wanna crash here tonight? Getting kinda late." He watched McGee as he looked down at his glass with a smirk.

"It's been a really weird day," Tim said. "Never thought it would end with me getting liquored up and crashing at your house," he looked up at him, amused.

Gibbs smirked, "Means it was a good party, right?"

*~.~*

"Let me see," Tony said to Ziva as he handed her the cold compress. Ziva cocked her head and narrowed her eyes at him.

"It looks much worse than it is," she told him. But he didn't break his glare. After a few long moments, she folded, and slowly pulled up the side of her sweater. She watched his eyes go to the purple expanse of her ribcage; his brows furrowing at the sight. Then she quickly pulled it back down and placed the compress over it.

His eyes met hers again, "I'm sorry, Zi," he said, sincerely.

"It is not your fault," she said. "I should have been paying attention, like I told you before."

"How bad was it? What you found..." he asked, searching her eyes.

Her eyes darted back and forth between his, "I should go," she said, turning away toward the living room.

"Really?" his voice seemed betrayed and she stopped and turned back to face him. "Of all the things you've seen in your life, you can't tell me what you saw that had you so preoccupied?"

"I saw a hurt child," she replied quietly, "And a man who has not yet asked us to find the man who caused it."

"I don't need him to be found," he replied.

"Why not?" she asked in frustration. "After what he did to you...you were just a child."

"I was just getting what I deserved, Ziva," he said flatly.

Her brow furrowed as she shook her head in pure dumbfounded shock. "You do realize, that this is exactly the mindset of an abuse victim?"

"You don't understand..."

"Then help me to understand, Tony," she stepped closer to him.

"I deserved it," he repeated. "Just ask McGee..."

"I am asking you," she said. But Tony clenched his jaw uncomfortably, and she could tell that he wasn't going to talk. "I think it is time for me to go," she turned to walk back into the living room. Tony closed his eyes and hung his head.

*~.~*

"I can call you a cab, or you can stay here," Gibbs told Ziva as she grabbed her keys.

"I am not drunk, Gibbs," she protested.

"It wasn't a request, Ziva," he told her, then stood and stepped close to her. "Cut him some slack," he barely whispered to her. She met his eyes for a moment before nodding, then turned to go upstairs to the other guest room.

"I wanna see what McGoo brought you yesterday," Tony said. Gibbs and McGee looked at him where he stood in the doorway of the kitchen.

"Okay," Gibbs said, and McGee glanced at him with furrowed brow as he started toward the door to the basement. "Downstairs," he instructed Tony, and he complied by entering the basement door first.

He peered down the stairs and paused as something suddenly flashed in his mind...

"You wanna see how it felt, Junior?!" his father shouted, enraged, as he held Tony by the hair. "You wanna know what she felt when she fell, because of YOU?"

"No...please..."

"I told you to be quiet! Not a word! Not a sound!" he yelled. Then he let go of his hair and kicked his feet out from under him, sending him flying down the basement steps...

Tony's small battered body fell face-down on the cold, wet basement floor. Then everything went dark...and for a moment, he thought he'd passed out. But he heard his father slam the basement door closed, and knew he was simply leaving him there...to suffer alone, in the dark; without permission to voice his suffering...

"Tony," Gibbs took the agent's face in his hands. Tony was hanging onto the railing for dear life at the top of the stairs, seated unknowingly on the top step; his eyes, unfocused and darting around frantically. "Tony, you're safe. You're okay, come on," he tried to pull him out of the flashback as he sat beside him on the stair.

McGee appeared behind them, shocked by the sudden turn of events. "What's happening?" he asked. But Gibbs didn't waver his attention from Tony.

"Boss?" Tony blinked rapidly as Gibbs came into focus.

"You back with us, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, moving his hands to the agent's shoulders. Tony looked down the stairs again, and Gibbs felt him begin to tremble.

"He wanted me to...feel how she felt..." his eyes clamped shut as the tears came. Gibbs understood, immediately, what that meant, and felt his heart sink in his chest.

"Tony," Gibbs said in barely a whisper, moving his hands to pull Tony's from their grip on the rail. Tony allowed him to do so, and felt himself pulled into his boss's embrace.

He hid his face in Gibbs' shoulder; his body wracking with silent sobs. The only sound came from the sudden intake of breath that followed the sobs, "I'm sorry..." he cried before the silence resumed its place amidst the shaking.

Gibbs brought one of his hands up to the back of Tony's head, stroking it comfortingly, "It's not your fault, Tony. Wasn't your fault," he told him.

McGee backed out of the small space and back into the hall. He turned when he saw Ziva in the corner of his eye. She stood there, silently questioning what was happening, and he walked to her, pulling her farther away from the door.

"What is happening?" she asked in a whisper.

"Tony's father convinced him it was his fault, what happened to his mother," he told her. "That's why he won't let us find him. He takes complete blame for his mother's death, and gives his father pardon for everything he did to him..."

"And what is happening now-"

"He said...his father wanted him to know how she felt," he told her. "Which means, he...pushed him down the stairs, too..." Ziva straightened; her eyes focusing on Tim's chest.

"This is why...he was ashamed to explain it to me," she said, then looked him in the eyes again. "What do we do? How can we help him?" she implored.

"I don't know..." he replied; his eyes focusing elsewhere. He wished he'd had an answer. Seeing Tony this way was more than unnerving. It was hard to see; heartbreaking and inconceivable. There had to be something... some way he could help him. And if they didn't figure it out soon, they'd lose the Tony they knew...

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I've been totally A.D.D lately...and I don't mean Tony's initials ;). Took me longer than I'd hoped to get this out, but hopefully it lives up to your expectations. Gotta work tomorrow, but I'll do my best to get more up by the end of the day. Show me love!! :)