Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS.

A/N: This chapter is much longer than the others. I do hope that you will enjoy it.

Chapter 14

The Hate

Tony was silent for a week, barely speaking except for when Abby or Ducky was over to visit with him. It freaked Jethro out, but there was nothing he could do to change it. Tony distanced himself from him, barely said more than a word at a time, and barely slept. Getting him to leave the house was impossible. He adamantly refused to go out both the front and back doors, spending most of his time in the living room, staring at the television, though Jethro could easily tell that he was not actually watching it.

While it freaked him out, it was also starting to piss him off. Tony refused to tell him what had happened to cause his withdrawal. He'd attempted to not come to bed one night, but Jethro had put his foot down and insisted he take himself up to bed. Tony had gone to bed sulkily, and Jethro had felt guilty. He wasn't Tony's father. He was his partner.

He couldn't help but feel liked he'd been fair to Tony. The younger man had been through a very traumatic experience, and Jethro had done for him what he felt was best- he'd been there for him. As much as he wanted to rip whoever had hurt his partner limb from limb, he didn't want to push Tony to talk about it. He knew Tony enough to know that pushing him to talk would only push him out the door. Communication had never been one of Tony's strong points, especially when he was hurting.

Now, however, he wanted to grab Tony by the shoulders and shake the answers out of him. He wanted to force the younger man to tell him what had happened in Washington, who had done it to him, and why, when things had been going so well, he'd completely shut down. Gibbs felt like he'd been patient enough, and perhaps he could have held out a little longer if Tony hadn't relapsed into this empty shell of a person. It was the fakeness of Tony's behavior, and the games that was pissing Gibbs off the most.

He hated going to work, fearing that when he got home, Tony wouldn't be there. He called to check in several times, but only got through when he called the house phone. Tony had stopped answering is cell phone. He'd even stopped turning it on. Gibbs didn't press this latest issue only because Tony refused to leave the house, and he always answered the house phone. It wasn't until he'd really gotten to thinking about this phone issue that he put a few pieces of the puzzle together, and he headed downstairs to speak with Abby about what could be done about it.

NCIS

Tony knew he was pissing Jethro off. He knew the other man was getting impatient. He knew he wasn't being the easiest person in the world. He knew all of these things, but he couldn't make himself change his behavior. Every morning when Jethro said goodbye, he wanted to beg him to stay home, but he couldn't reveal his weakness. Every time Jethro's eyes asked what had happened, Tony wanted to get it off his chest, but he couldn't admit that he'd been too weak to keep himself safe. Every time Jethro wondered why he'd suddenly changed so much, Tony wanted to tell him about the phone call, but he couldn't admit to the fright.

He was not a weak person. He was strong, and he could take care of himself, and he didn't need protection- but he wanted it. He just couldn't ask for it. His pride got in the way.

How was it that just one thing, spoken over a phone, could get to him so much? He didn't know if they knew where he was. He didn't know if they were even after him. He didn't know anything other than the fact that they were capable of hurting him, and that was exactly what they'd been able to do before, and what they would be able to do again. Did the phone call mean that they were waiting for him to return to Washington? Or did it mean that they knew he was in D.C. and could get him very easily? Perhaps they were just trying to fuck with him- to remind him of what they could do to him if they so desired.

He hated that they terrified him. He hated that he couldn't keep his thoughts from going back to that point in time when he'd wanted nothing more than to die. He hated that every time he felt like things were getting better, something happened to reminded him of just what had happened. He hated that every time Abby threw her arms around him in a loving hug, he felt a completely different pair of arms holding him down. He hated how just the thought of being intimate with the man he loved with all of his heart made him want to vomit as he felt the coldness of that hard glass bottle penetrating him. He hated how the faintest of whispers could put him on edge- return him to the living room of his apartment in Washington where he'd been outnumbered and unable to stop what he knew was going to happen.

Coming home to Jethro had been all he'd wanted to do as he lay on the living room floor after they'd left that night. He'd picked himself up, called a cab and was gone with only his wallet and phone, intent upon getting home as quickly as he possibly could. The flight had been long and uncomfortable, but he'd felt okay. They weren't on the plane, and that feeling had kept with him as he'd made his way to his destination and back into Jethro's arms. He was safe from them as long as he wasn't in Washington. That feeling had shattered with that one phone call, however. It brought them from Washington to D.C. and his feeling of safety and security had evaporated. They were still a threat to him, even thousands of miles away from the place of his attack.

NCIS

"What can I do for you, Gibbs?" Abby was her usual perky self, fluttering about her lab in her knee high platform boots that made him cringe. "Fingerprints? Ballistics? DNA?"

"Phone records," was his response, dropping down to sit in the stool beside her computer.

"Doesn't McGee usually pull phone records?" Abby wondered, quirking an eyebrow as she turned away from Major Mass. Spec. to observe him.

He just looked back at her and she finally relented and approached her computer to do the search with a sigh.

"What number?" Abby wondered, setting her fingers on her keyboard.

"Tony's," Jethro answered.

Abby swiveled her head around so sharply that Jethro was almost surprised when it didn't fly off. Her eyes were wide with concern, but he couldn't bring himself to reassure her. It wasn't as if he was feeling particularly good about this himself.

"Is Tony okay?" Abby demanded. "Has something happened to him? You're supposed to be making sure he's okay!"

"Check last week. Monday, afternoon," Jethro instructed her, motioning back towards the computer.

Abby was on it without asking anymore questions. Jethro knew that she'd give him the information he needed. If it involved Tony, and it was enough to make him worried, Abby would do whatever it took to help him.

"Monday afternoon he made two calls, and received three calls," Abby read from the computer screen only a few seconds later. "He called his father, and somebody in Washington- his own line at the Northwest NCIS office. He got two calls from you, one from your cell, and another your office phone."

"And the last call?" Jethro pressed, not needing to be told that he'd called Tony- he already knew that.

"I don't know who made it," Abby shook her head, her fingers flying over the keyboard. "The number is registered to a Mr. Ronald McDonald, and was purchased from a small provider in Washingon two weeks ago. It's a fake name."

"Ya think?" Jethro sighed. "Find me who that number belongs to Abby."

"On it," Abby promised.

A/N: So...any thoughts?