The smell of coffee was the first thing Tony noticed as he forced himself to rejoin the land of the living; unfortunately he knew that it was going to take something more than coffee to get rid of the jackhammer that had taken up residence in his head. A low groan escaped his lips as he slowly sat up in an effort to take in his surroundings. The blanket that had been draped over his shoulders fell to the floor; he rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he tried to focus on the image of the man sitting across from him.
Tony stared at the team leader trying to recall how he had ended up at Gibbs' house; the last thing he remembered with any clarity was arguing with his father in the hospital and everything else seemed to be a big blur with sporadic images vying for attention in his jumbled mind. He could only hope that he hadn't said or done anything to embarrass himself in front of the former Marine; it was important to him that he didn't disappoint Gibbs.
"Mornin' Boss," he mumbled, his mouth feeling like he had swallowed sand.
"How'd you sleep?" Gibbs asked as he pushed a cup of coffee towards him.
"I'm not sure; how long have I been asleep?"
"About six hours."
"What time is it?"
"A little after six," the Marine answered.
"Crap!"
A sense of panic began to overwhelm him as he shakily stood to his feet. "I should already be at the hospital! Why didn't you wake me up?"
The room began to spin and Tony was sure that he was going to be sick. Strong hands guided him back down to his chair and he was grateful that Gibbs didn't let him go until he was sure that he wasn't going to pass out. "Thanks," he mumbled. "I guess I got up too fast."
"You shouldn't do that, especially when you've got a hangover," Gibbs pointed out.
"I'll try and remember that." Tony cradled his aching head in his hands. "Oh man, how much did I have to drink?"
"I quit counting after your fourth glass."
"Bourbon?"
"What else?"
He raked his hands through his hair; frustration and disgust with himself evident in his listless movements. Tony winced as a sharp pain shot through his hand. As he stared at the bruised appendage, a vague recollection of hitting it against a wall came to his mind. He gently flexed his hand as he recalled the anger at his father that had been redirected at the wall.
"Ducky's coming by in a little bit to look at your hand," the team leader informed him.
"I don't think it's broken."
"Better safe than sorry."
"I guess," he conceded.
He sat up and met Gibbs' concerned gaze. He despised appearing weak in front of the former Marine, fearing that he would somehow lose the older man's respect. Of course, now that he thought about it, Gibbs had seen him at his best and his worst and still treated him better than his own father; Tony had never been convinced that he had ever had his dad's respect.
"So, what did I end up spilling my guts about this time?" Tony asked. He knew that his tendency to ramble when he was drunk had more than likely resulted in him revealing those innermost hurts that he always tried to keep hidden so no one could see the real Anthony DiNozzo.
"Your dad," Gibbs replied.
"I figured that much."
"You were pretty upset with him when we left the hospital."
"Yeah, well," he sighed. "I'm still not too happy with him this morning."
"Can't blame you."
"What exactly did I say?" Tony wanted to know.
"You told me about your dad's dealings with Sam Brewer and that he wants you to use your federal agent status to make the charges go away," Gibbs bitterly stated.
Tony knew that Gibbs wasn't pleased with the position that his father had put him in; the coolness of the older man's tone vaguely disguised the anger that Tony knew was raging inside. This revelation had more than likely just added to the list of reasons why Gibbs didn't get along with his father; the Marine's sense of integrity constantly clashed with his father's sense of self preservation, not to mention that the two men were as different as day and night.
"Did I tell you how much he owes Brewer?"
Gibbs nodded. "Over five hundred thousand."
"I didn't leave anything out, did I? You know, my father's made a living by lying and using others; you would think that it'd get old after awhile," Tony mused. "I'm not sure I'll ever understand what makes him tick."
"I don't know, DiNozzo; I was kind of hoping that he'd figure out what he's missed all these years."
"And what's that?"
Gibbs paused for a second; his eyes reflecting the seriousness and sincerity of his next words. "His son."
"Gibbs, don't worry about it," Tony tried to reassure him. "I've been an afterthought in my father's life for years; I'm used to it."
Tony blew out a pent up breath. He wasn't sure that he was in the right frame of mind to discuss his and Senior's relationship; there weren't enough hours in a day to even begin considering a trip down memory lane. Tony needed to get to the hospital before his father was taken to surgery; he had promised his dad that he would be there and unlike his father, he kept his word.
"I need to get to the hospital," he declared once again.
"You've got time," Gibbs stated. "I already called and they aren't going to take your father to surgery until 8:30. Go on and take a shower; I think you've got some clothes in the spare room from the last time you crashed here. By the time you're done, Ducky should be here; after he looks you over, we'll grab some breakfast on the way to the hospital."
Tony shook his head. "No food."
"You're going to eat something; you've got a long day ahead of you."
Tony permitted Gibbs to help him slowly stand up. He nodded when he was sure that his feet were under him and headed towards the bathroom. When he reached the door, he glanced back over his shoulder at the team leader. "Thanks, Gibbs."
"You're welcome, Tony."
He entered the bathroom and found a towel and washcloth lying on the sink. Closing the door behind him, he braced himself against the sink and studied his reflection in the mirror. "You're a mess, DiNozzo."
The dark circles under his eyes were a testament to the physical and emotional stress that he'd been under the past few days; the stubble on his face seemed to age him five years. He hoped that Gibbs didn't mind if he used his razor.
"Don't touch my razor, DiNozzo! There's a disposable one in the medicine cabinet," Gibbs yelled from the kitchen.
"How does he do that?" Tony mumbled to himself. "Thanks, Boss!"
He carefully removed his shirt, ever mindful of his injured ribs; his various aches and bruises served as a reminder of how difficult his life had become ever since his father had come back into his life. Maybe it would have been better if they had stayed estranged. Tony forced those thoughts out of his mind; he once told Gibbs that his father was set in his ways and he was never going to change. If only Tony could accept that fact himself, his life would probably be a lot less complicated.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Anthony DiNozzo, Senior had been lying awake for a while, the worry and stress from his upcoming surgery preventing him getting the sleep that he needed. Of course, that wasn't the only thing on his mind; for the last thirty minutes, he'd been remembering his last conversation with his son. He had attempted something new for him and had been semi honest with Tony and that approach had gotten him nowhere. When Junior had confronted him about Brewer, he had no choice but to tell Tony the truth.
"A lot of good that did me," he mumbled. "I've got to do something; I have to talk Tony into helping me or we'll both be on Brewer's list."
"Talking to yourself, my old friend?"
Senior paled at the sound of the familiar voice. He gaze followed Sam Brewer as he entered his room and sat down in the chair beside his bed. Feeling vulnerable, he reached for the bed control that would enable him to sit up and face his adversary. Making sure that the call button was well within his reach, he waited for his guest to make the first move.
"Hello, Anthony," Brewer greeted. "So, it's true."
"How did you find out that I was in the hospital?"
"Your son is getting careless; I had my men tail him."
"You had him tailed? What…"
"Don't worry," Brewer assured him. "He's safe and sound; he left with Agent Gibbs last night and spent the night at his house. I must say that Junior; that is what you call him, right? Anyway, Junior didn't seem too happy."
"He's tired," Senior offered by way of explanation. "When he's tired, Junior gets edgy. Speaking of Tony, he'll be here any minute. If I were you, I wouldn't be here," Senior warned the other man.
"I just stopped by to see an old friend; there's no law against that."
Mustering the most charming smile he could, Senior attempted to ease the tension in the room. "Of course not, Sam; I'm just surprised to see you. Since you found out I was in the hospital then you probably already know that I'm having surgery in a couple of hours."
"I know. I just came to wish you well, Anthony."
"Is that all?" he challenged, the grin on his face masking the panic he was feeling inside. Brewer was a dangerous man and there wasn't a doubt in Senior's mind that Sam wouldn't think twice about killing him if the situation was warranted.
"Of course," Sam replied. "I'm not sure I appreciate your suspicious nature towards me, but since I know that you're under a great deal of stress, I will overlook your thinly veiled accusation."
"I appreciate that."
"You're welcome."
He cleared his throat as he adjusted his covers. "I do have one question, Sam; if you don't mind."
Brewer sat back in his chair; his movements exaggerated as his made a spectacle of making himself comfortable. "Ask away."
"Why are you really here?"
"You know, you and your son do have something in common; you're both direct and to the point."
"Only when it suits me to be," Senior stated. "So, answer my question."
"I came to see if you've talked to your son."
"About what?"
Senior could feel Brewer's eyes boring holes through him to his soul. "About our deal."
"I…uh...I...not exactly," he lied. "There's been a lot going on and we've rarely had any time alone together to talk." He knew that he hadn't been truthful with Sam but he hoped to buy himself some time; maybe he could still talk Tony into helping him, although that possibility was looking bleak.
"Anthony, I've been very patient, but my patience is wearing thin. You said that you could convince him to take care of those charges against me, but so far, you haven't followed through on your end of the deal," Brewer pointed out. "You better get busy or the boys and I will have to pay another visit to your son and use a different method of persuasion to get my point across; I don't think that my men will go so easy on him this time."
Senior visibly bristled. Tony had told him that Brewer had been in his home but he had neglected to tell him the extent of the confrontation. How badly had Junior been hurt? "What do you mean, this time?"
"He didn't tell you that we left our calling card?" Brewer inquired.
"No, he didn't."
"I guess he didn't want you to worry."
"I guess not," Senior conceded.
"I'm starting to believe that you and your son aren't as close as you claimed to be."
"Our relationship isn't really your concern."
Brewer sat forward in his chair, the mask that had been disguising his arrogance and fury was beginning to slip. "It is my concern when it's my future that's at stake. You told me that your son would do anything for you; was that a lie?"
"No."
"Then why do I still have these charges against me?"
"I told you that I haven't talked to him about it! He's been busy making sure that I'm being taken care of; he's been at the hospital with me ever since I had my heart attack."
"He's not here now; he's still at Agent Gibbs' place," Brewer reminded him.
"Just give us a few more days. Let me get through this surgery and then I'll talk to Tony."
"For some reason, I don't believe you. I think that you better convince him before you have surgery; what if you don't survive? Where would I be then?"
"I'm not planning on dying," Senior growled at his nemesis. What on earth had possessed him to ever get involved with the likes of Sam Brewer? If he had listened to his initial instincts, he wouldn't be in the position of asking his only son to betray everything that he stood for.
"No one plans on dying, Anthony."
"I think you better leave; my son will be here soon."
"Will he?" An evil smile played upon Brewer's lips. "Maybe he will and maybe he won't. Accidents happen all the time. You better take care of this and soon or your son will lose more than that infamous DiNozzo charm."
Senior sat up in bed, the rage now coursing through him squeezed his chest like a vice. "You better…not threaten…my son!" he seethed. Grabbing his chest, he ignored the alarms that were beginning to echo throughout the room. "He's your…only hope. Remember that."
"I haven't forgotten." Brewer stood to leave as the nurse came running in the room. "Have you?"
"What happened here?" the nurse demanded to know.
The elder DiNozzo felt himself being pushed back down on the bed as the nurse silenced the blaring alarms and placed the oxygen mask over his face. Senior inhaled the much needed air as he tried to force himself to relax under the ministrations of the nurse. "Take it easy," she instructed. "Take deep breaths; I've paged the doctor."
He acknowledged her with a slight nod as his gaze fell on Brewer, who was playing the part of the concerned friend. "I better get out of the way," Sam insisted. "I knew that I shouldn't have brought up the problems we've been having at work. Why did I let you talk me into it?"
Senior wished that he had the ability and the energy to punch Brewer in the nose; the man was more of a con artist than he was. "Feel better, my friend and don't worry, I'll make sure Tony takes care of himself," Sam vowed. Turning to the nurse, he gave her an apologetic smile, "Please take care of him."
As soon as Brewer had left, he reached up and removed the mask. "My son…I need to call my son," he pleaded.
"I'll call him as soon as I get you situated," the nurse promised.
"No, I need to…talk to him now."
"Mr. DiNozzo, please; you've got to relax."
"As soon as I talk to my son."
He was grateful that the nurse finally gave in to his demand. "All right," she reluctantly consented. "You just lie there and rest and let the doctor check you over; I'll go call your son."
The older man breathed a sigh of relief as the nurse left his room to honor his request. He didn't want Brewer anywhere near his son; although was still planning on trying to convince Tony to help him, Senior was truly afraid that Sam would use other means of persuasion. "I never meant for you to get hurt, Tony," he whispered to himself.
Senior recalled Gibbs' promise to have Tony's back; he sincerely hoped that the team leader was true to his word.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Gibbs was beginning to think that Tony had fallen asleep in the shower but after hearing a few expletives coming from the bathroom, he figured that his senior agent was still upright and semi-functional. He glanced at his watch and figured that he'd give Tony a few more minutes before he made sure that he was all right; DiNozzo had never been a morning person when he was sober and the effect of the alcohol had only exacerbated the slow pace at which he was moving.
Although he had planned on stopping for breakfast, Gibbs decided that Tony needed a little something on his stomach before they got in the car and headed towards the hospital. He had decided to fix some toast and was now waiting for DiNozzo to join him; the young man had a long few days ahead of him and Gibbs was determined to see that DiNozzo took care of himself. His concern for Tony's welfare was why he had called Ducky and why he had placed a call to Vance to tell him that he and Tony would be taking some time off; the Director wasn't thrilled with both of them being out at the same time, but he understood the necessity.
The water had stopped running and he knew that Tony would be out soon. After he poured himself another cup of coffee, he sat the plate of toast on the table and waited for DiNozzo. He didn't have to wait too long before Tony appeared dressed in blue jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt; the dark haired man looked a little more rested but there were still dark circles under his eyes that spoke volumes of the stress that he was under.
"Feel better?" Gibbs asked.
"Not really, but hopefully I look a little more human," Tony admitted.
"Have some toast."
"I still don't think that's a good idea."
"I don't care. Eat."
Tony sat down and started nibbling on the toast. DiNozzo was subdued and that was simply out of character for the normally exuberant man; Gibbs was sure that Tony's sudden passiveness was a combination of fatigue, frustration, and uncertainty. He hated what his father's presence did to his senior field agent; not for the first time did the former Marine wonder if Tony would be better off if his dad had stayed out of life.
The sound of his front door opening brought him out of his silent musings. He recognized the familiar footsteps of his old friend; as usual, Ducky was right on time. Gibbs motioned for the ME to join them. "Hey, Duck."
"Good morning, Jethro," Ducky cheerfully acknowledged them as he observed Tony's sluggish movements and tired appearance. "I see my patient is eagerly awaiting my services."
"Mornin' Duck," Tony said in between bites of toast.
"How are you, Anthony? You look a little worse for wear."
"Believe me, worse for wear is an improvement," Tony quipped.
"I believe it."
Gibbs was grateful for Ducky's easy going bedside manner; the ME's gentleness and compassion was exactly what Tony needed right now. "Want some coffee?" he offered.
"No, thank you. I've got a petty officer waiting on me after I leave here; I instructed Mr. Palmer to start the autopsy and I'm sure he'll do a fine job but I still need to be there. Sometimes the lad does go off on a tangent but I suppose that is something that I'll never be able to fix," Ducky surmised.
"Probably not," Gibbs deadpanned. "I've been trying for years."
"So Anthony, I hear that you've hurt your hand and…"
The ME was interrupted by Tony's ringing phone. Gibbs grabbed it off the table so Tony wouldn't have an excuse to avoid Ducky's ministrations. Glancing at the caller ID, a sense of dread came over the team leader.
"Who is it?" Tony wanted to know.
He wished that for once he could lie to Tony. The hospital was calling and Gibbs couldn't shake the feeling that whoever was on the other end of the line was not the bearer of good news. What if something was wrong with Tony's father? As much as he wanted to spare Tony any pain, he had to let DiNozzo take the call.
Gibbs handed the phone to Tony, hoping that he wasn't making a huge mistake. "It's the hospital."
"The hospital?"
Tony rose up from his seat as he answered the phone. "Hello?"
The former Marine was trying to listen to Tony's end of the conversation. His heart sank when he heard DiNozzo confirm that he was talking to his dad; couldn't that man let his son have a moment's peace?
Gibbs silently chastised himself for the negative thoughts that he was having regarding Anthony DiNozzo, Senior. He was Tony's father and whether he liked it or not, DiNozzo felt a sense of obligation to his dad; if he wasn't careful, he would end up driving a wedge between him and the man that he thought of as a son and that was the last thing he wanted to do.
Hope you enjoyed the post. It was a tad bit longer than usual but the words kept coming, so I had to keep typing. I know I sound like a broken record, but I sincerely appreciate all of your support and encouragement; I'm humbled and honored to have such faithful readers! Off to work on From the Ashes!