When Gibbs awoke, he found Tony's side of the bed empty. A quick search of the room revealed Tony wrapped in a comforter with his knees drawn up to his chest, curled sideways in the rocking chair, absently swaying as he dreamily stared out the window. A late spring shower beat a staccato rhythm against the window, mirroring Tony's mood.
Tony's eyes flicked towards the bed before returning to the grey dawn. "They gave me a case of water," he whispered softly. "Locked me in, chained to the wall." He fell silent, took a long breath. "Ever hear the sound a bunch of stacked containers make in heavy seas, Boss?"
Gibbs eased himself into a sitting position, his back against the headboard, his wrists loosely resting on his knees, and silently shook his head.
"It's like a subhuman groan – you can feel it go through you. Like out of a zombie movie... I think I was in one of the top containers – it was so hot and so cold and the swaying and vibrations were so bad all the time. I tried to ration it – only drink when I had to. You know, when the headaches get so bad? Then there was no water and I was afraid I was going crazy. Do you think I'm crazy, Boss?"
"No. Do you think you're crazy?"
His hands tugging at the comforter, Tony snorted then looked intently out the window and into the lightening sky. "I don't know," he admitted faintly. "All I know is I was someplace no one would ever look and I couldn't get out and I was so alone and all I wanted was someone to talk to…" A hand shakily emerged to swipe at some errant hair as Tony gathered his thoughts. "..and they wouldn't talk with me – they were always there talkin' around me but they wouldn't talk TO me!"
Gibbs' eyebrow climbed as Tony's rocking increased in tempo.
Mindfully slowing the rocking, Tony muttered, "Never mind…" He sighed, "By the time we reached port all I wanted was out of that container but I was scared to death what I was gonna find outside. When they came for me, I tried to fight them off, Boss!" He slammed his feet down, stilling the chair but not the incessant quivers radiating through his body. "I really did!"
The eyes of desperation drew Gibbs to Tony's side. Standing next to him, Gibbs wordlessly reached out a hand in offering, mindful of Tony's sensitivity the night before, and patiently waited as Tony's need for contact warred with his aversion to it. The subtle shift of body weight served as invitation for Gibbs to step close to the chair and guide Tony's head to rest his cheek on Gibbs' torso.
"I know you did, son. I know you did…"
The voice that continued was smaller with a pensive quality to it as the chair resumed motion once more, "There were so many of them and I could barely stand up without falling over. I don't even know how I arrived at Master's house. It's all just a blur. All I know is, by the time night fell that first day, I was pierced, collared and chained to the foot of his bed." Tony's hand slid down his chest, lingering on a golden ring under the thin t-shirt.
"My first few weeks there, there was so much pain – they could do anything they wanted and there was nothing I could do about it. Master said I was his special pet for him to train as he wanted. He was always testing me – waiting for me to fail so he could punish me – making me fail, so he'd have an excuse – not that it ever stopped him...'
'Master would show me off to visitors – his American agent. He'd take me to port sometimes; make me walk through the crowd. They hated Americans; they hated me but they were afraid of my Master and, as long as I wore his collar," The blanket rustled as Tony's hand drifted to his throat, "they didn't dare touch me."
Tony fell silent. The chair stilled while Gibbs thoughtfully smoothed Tony's hair in long, soothing strokes.
Several heartbeats later, Tony broke the silence. "Boss, why is it that, now that I've remembered something, I feel even more confused than before?"
"Whaddaya mean, Tony?"
Tony frowned. "I don't feel any different, just more scared. Like, while it always made sense there would be one, now I know there really is a monster under the bed… If this is what it's like to remember, Boss, I'm not sure I want to."
"I can tell ya sometimes it's worse only knowing half the story. Maybe when you know the whole story, you'll be able to finally process it," Gibbs pointed out hopefully while, in his heart, he wondered how much worse Tony's story would get as memories surfaced.
While the tension in the body leaning against his abdomen told him Tony was still awake, Gibbs noticed Tony's breathing had slowed to pace his own. While he continued to stroke Tony's hair, Gibbs carefully worked his hand lower, to massage Tony's neck and shoulders. He was gratified to see Tony could now allow that simple contact. From the time he met him, Gibbs had noticed Tony was clearly a very tactile person yet he had always kept himself at arm's length from people even while invading their space. A major bone of contention when Abby first met Tony was his reluctance to be manhandled by the enthusiastic Goth. She had taken it as a personal affront until Gibbs had stepped in privately on his second's behalf, at which time Abby then made converting him a personal crusade. As hints of Tony's upbringing came to light, Gibbs could well imagine the cause of this reticence.
Feeling a particular tight spot, Gibbs worked the underlying muscles, smiling to himself when Tony unconsciously hummed softly to himself in time with the fingers. "Feel good?"
With his head lolling against his Boss, Tony could feel the light chuckle through Gibbs' chest. "Yeah, better. Thanks, Boss."
Taking advantage of Tony's lassitude, Gibbs broached, "Brad and Ducky would like you to try talkin' with someone. They found a doc you might like." He scowled when Tony's muscles tightened under his fingertips.
Tony looked up to gauge Gibbs' thoughts on the subject. "I… ah… What do you think, Boss?"
"Hell if I know. I think it's worth tryin'." Gibbs tipped his head to meet the leaf green eyes. "They really want you to try, but I told them it's up to you."
"Will you be there?"
"As close as they'll let me," Gibbs allowed. "The doc might think you'd feel more comfortable talking privately. We're not gonna make you do anything you don't want to do."
"I dunno. Have you met the doc?"
"Nope, but she comes with good credentials."
"She? Is she pretty?"
"DiNozzo, you're supposed to speak with her, not date her!"
Sheepishly, Tony admitted, "Doesn't hurt to ask, Boss."
Gibbs shook his head in amusement. "Just be good." His humor died as the comment, almost too soft to be heard, reached his ears.
"'s what they trained me to do, Boss."
000
Doctor Amanda Curtis looked across the thick file to curiously consider the man sleeping soundly on the couch across from her. When Brad Pitt had approached her with this case, she had been captivated by the almost Dickensian story of his life. Now that she had agreed to take his case on and Agent DiNozzo's guardian had approved her participation on his health team, Brad had brought her to Alexandria for an introductory house call. Amanda's gaze wandered to the enigmatic silver-haired man Brad was animatedly chatting with. On the ride over, Doctor Pitt had attempted to describe the relationship between the two men, enthusiastically detailing several implausible situations which left her shaking her head in disbelief. Now, with her skepticism in full bloom, the entire file in her lap and the two men in front of her, Amanda wondered what she had gotten herself into.
Tony, as she was told he preferred to be called, had improved since Doctor Pitt originally called her, so they had scheduled to meet the following weekend when it would be the easiest for everyone involved with the case to attend. With his amnesia, Amanda hoped to speak with the people who knew Tony best privately, so she could approach him with a solid understanding of her patient. Upon arriving, Gibbs had greeted them each with a handshake and a gruff grunt in reply to questions about Tony's wellbeing then led them into the house, offering the strongest coffee Amanda had ever tried and the sparest of conversation. When Brad accepted it all with a nonchalant grin, casually checked over his sleeping patient, who was snuggled under a fleece blanket on the couch, poured a criminal amount of sugar and a touch of water and cream into his coffee and collapsed into a comfortable chair, Amanda followed suit, pulling out the chart Brad had handed her in the car to acquaint herself with her patient.
The section following Tony's exposure to the Plague intrigued her; Brad had told her about Gibbs ordering his man to live and the astoundingly unanticipated turnaround which occurred immediately thereafter. The chart was also interspersed with comments on both ends of the spectrum relating to Gibbs' continued presence throughout Tony's recovery. Amanda couldn't imagine how Tony had avoided psychiatric care after that catastrophic incident and the added trauma of his partner's death in the line of duty just a day after returning to work a week early from his sick leave, but somehow he had managed to skim through only the most basic psych evaluation before returning to duty. Amanda scanned through gunshot wounds, druggings, stab wounds, bomb blasts, and a dizzying array of miscellaneous injuries in the line of duty, continually coming across the same name on the admittance forms: 'L. Jethro Gibbs'.
Heads snapped up around the room when Tony's breath abruptly shortened and he writhed with a whimper, his face knotting in pain as his head sank between his shoulders. Before either doctor could move, Gibbs was at his side, whispering into his ear until, with a hiccupping sigh, he settled back into a dreamless sleep with a relaxed smile on his face. Mystified, Amanda looked over to Brad to receive an amused pop of the eyebrow in reply. Before she could say anything, an older gentleman rattled in the door, speaking non-stop to a tall, curly-haired man and followed by a pretty female Goth.
The unlikely trio immediately made themselves at home, with the Goth heading directly towards Gibbs, collecting a peck on the cheek as she handed him a grocery bag, then making a beeline for Tony to kneel beside him with a hand tenderly massaging him through the blanket.
As Amanda and Brad rose, the elderly man approached with a welcoming smile on his face. "Hello, Doctor Curtis, it's such a pleasure to finally meet you! I'm Donald Mallard; my friends call me Ducky. Sorry we're late; we had a few things we needed to pick up."
"Amanda, please, Ducky. And, it's fine; I'm still catching up with Tony's case – his file is quite extensive," she replied with a smile at Tony's primary care doctor.
"Yes, well, he certainly has had more than his share of mishaps," he chuckled. Ducky waved towards the younger man standing awkwardly at his elbow. "This is Mister Palmer, my assistant and a very good friend of Anthony's. And, this is Abigail," he noted with a fond smile as he indicated the Goth. "She's Tony's best friend and confidante."
"It's a pleasure meeting you all. Brad has told me quite a bit about you."
"Probably more like warned you," Ducky's assistant joked. He extended his hand. "I'm Jimmy."
"Hey," Brad grinned. "I couldn't have her walking in on this crew unprepared; Emma and I are still recovering from the first incident!"
Ducky chuckled as he settled into the recliner. "Mister Palmer, would you be so kind as to give Doctor Curtis Anthony's file?"
"Of course, Doctor Mallard. I have it right here."
Amanda waved towards the thick folder she'd been perusing before their arrival as she also slid into her seat. "Thanks, Ducky, but I already have it."
"Oh, no, Amanda, if I'm not mistaken, I believe that's just his hospital record. Anthony is extremely suspicious of doctors and an absolute terror when it comes to going to the hospital. For most of his minor injuries, I've treated him privately. He's only gone to the hospital when it was beyond my capacity in Autopsy or I've been unavailable and Jethro wouldn't take no for an answer."
The psychiatrist blinked as Jimmy handed her another folder nearly as thick as the one she was holding. "Autopsy?" Brad had mentioned he was also a pathologist at NCIS but she hadn't realized that his position as Tony's primary and NCIS coroner were so intrinsically connected.
"Yes, well, I could do more but they will only allow me to stock so many first aid supplies considering my patients are supposed to be dead! So, tell us something about yourself…" the coroner invited with a friendly smile.
Realizing Brad hadn't exaggerated nearly as much as she had suspected, Amanda looked around the circle of people all watching her expectantly from their various seats. She noticed Gibbs had parked himself on the arm of the couch near Tony's head, Jimmy had simply plopped his lanky frame on the floor at the opposite end of the couch, Abby had contentedly tuned them all out as she nestled against the couch to watch Tony sleep and Ducky was lying back on the recliner with a cup of tea which had materialized at his elbow the second he sat down. Through all of this, Tony hadn't stirred despite Brad's assertion he had extremely sensitive hearing.
The psychiatrist frowned, Gibbs had explained when they arrived that Tony had recently taken medication and she understood he was especially sensitive to it and still recovering from his injuries but, aside from the one brief disturbance, it had been nearly an hour without so much as a peep despite the hubbub of six people in the same room. "Does Tony typically sleep so deeply?"
"He has been, especially since his shock last weekend," Ducky admitted. "Of course, the medication has always thrown him for a loop. Jethro, how long ago was his last dose?"
"An hour ago, Duck. Due for two meds in another three."
"He should be awake in a little while then. Brad tells us your specialty is PTSD…" Ducky encouraged.
"Yes. I've been practicing at Bethesda for over a decade, mainly working with PTSD. My specialty is with abuse and assault survivors – a large part of my practice is women and dependent children -- although, with the new stressors our troops are experiencing out in the field, I'm seeing increasing numbers of young men as my schedule allows. I can't imagine anyone is ever prepared to deal with an enemy which uses innocent civilians as part of their arsenal…"
"No, I'd imagine not," Ducky admitted somberly as his eyes wandered to movement at the couch.
Abby had leaned over to press her forehead to Tony's and they were deep in conversation as he sleepily got his bearings. From the more audible snippets, it was apparent Abby was preparing him for Doctor Curtis' visit while Tony was having second thoughts. They debated for several minutes in hushed whispers until, with Abby's help, Tony reluctantly swung up into a half-sit and then drowsily slouched down against her to peer inquisitively at the petite doctor from where Abby had scooted up to snuggle in beside him.
"Boss?" Tony called thickly as he lifted his hands free from the blanket.
As Gibbs nonchalantly leaned over his charge, faces fell across the room when Tony's joined wrists became visible. "How's the itch?" he whispered in Tony's ear as he released the carabiners attached to his cuffs.
"It's killing me, Boss," Tony admitted. He flexed his shoulders in and out while rubbing his back back and forth across the couch as he tried to quell the irritation. Tony nearly purred when Abby began to rub circles on his lower back.
"Jethro, what is the meaning of this?" Ducky demanded in outrage as he slammed the recliner upright. His eyes flashed agitatedly towards the two doctors, who both had looks of disbelief on their faces – Brad's with a tinge of amusement and Amanda's with shocked disapproval.
Gently kneading Tony's hunched back while Tony fought to keep his hands balled in his lap, Gibbs calmly answered, "His back's been driving him crazy with the itch and he's been scratching his scabs open. Palmer suggested mittens but, since it's almost summer, I couldn't find any in the stores and the wool ones we tried gave him rashes where he rubbed, so Tony suggested we use the cuffs while he's sleeping."
"I could have given you the web addy for a shop that does leather ones, Bossman. All you had to do was ask!" Abby offered brightly. A quick glance around the room made her retreat into Tony's chest a little as she squished her lips to one side in discomfiture. "Never mind…"
Ignoring Abby, Ducky continued to bluster, "But, Jethro, this is outrageous! How could you possibly think this was a good idea?"
"Wow, Boss, I didn't think Ducky would get that upset about this. I guess we'd better not tell him about… you know…" Tony offered almost quiet enough for Ducky to not hear.
Ducky's eyebrows climbed as he took a long breath in preparation for his next diatribe. With great effort, he spoke evenly. "What are you talking about, Anthony?"
Wide, innocent eyes met his. "Nothing."
Her mouth hanging open, Abby looked from Gibbs, who was giving Tony an unreadable look, to Tony, who had suddenly found the carabiner still attached to a small ring on one of his cuffs fascinating. When Tony curled the corner of his lip and flashed her a quick impish glance, her eyes widening in joyful surprise, Abby drew herself up with an exclamation and bopped him in the arm. "Tony, you're so bad!" she laughed.
Ducky's ire cooled in an instant as he looked at Tony in befuddlement. He chuckled lightly as he gestured towards the injured man. "Come; let me take a look at your back. I haven't seen it for a few days. Mr. Palmer, have you been using the salve?"
"Yes, Doctor Mallard, I applied it this morning," Palmer answered promptly.
Tony obediently knelt beside Ducky's chair and lifted his shirt for him to see. Brad came around behind him to cluck at the scabs which had pulled away. While the two doctors probed the web of suture lines, Tony shyly examined his new doctor from under his eyelashes while occasionally wincing and answering a question to the two men behind him.
Amanda watched the interplay with a practiced eye. She hadn't missed how Tony had diffused the situation and the rest had responded in turn. Even Tony's taciturn guardian had smiled at the odd joke despite the delicate subject, which had made Tony glow with satisfaction. Amanda had seen the report from the rape kit, the hospital records and now, with Ducky's records, had also seen the private catalog of previous scars and injuries the coroner had been maintaining on an autopsy sheet since Tony had joined NCIS; apparently, whenever Tony would give a hint of the cause of an injury Ducky had noticed on his skin or x-rays earlier, Ducky would make a notation in his record. Seeing the evidence of repeated childhood traumas coupled with what he had recently survived made Amanda appreciate just how resilient her patient was.
The psychologist found herself having a difficult time getting accustomed to Tony's voice, however. While Brad had told her of the injuries to his throat and larynx and assured her the timbre of his voice was beginning to improve, it was still quite painful to listen to. Amanda understood their unanimous decision to not discourage Tony from talking to aid in his recovery and, from what she had seen, agreed wholeheartedly with it, but it didn't make it any easier.
Ducky finally sat back with satisfaction, giving Tony a pat on the shoulder in permission to pull his shirt back on as he sat back. "Overall, Anthony, I'm pleased with your healing. Almost all your stitches have finally dissolved and that one larger welt we were worried about dehisting seems to be closing up well – the butterflies held it nicely."
"Can't stop itching it, Ducky," Tony complained.
"Yes, well, we'll have to come up with something to help calm that down. Perhaps a mild Lidocaine spray would be advised. What do you think, Bradley?"
Brad shrugged. "Couldn't hurt and might keep it down to a dull roar. It usually stings a little going on though," he warned Tony.
"I'll take a little sting to a big itch any day of the week, Brad."
Ducky looked to the psychologist apologetically. "I'm afraid I've been monopolizing your time, Amanda. Would you like to begin?"
"That's okay, Ducky. I'm not on the clock today." She smiled. "I was wondering if I could first speak with Tony alone?"
Tony's head snapped to Gibbs in alarm.
"Totally alone, Doctor Curtis?" Gibbs asked. He raised an eyebrow at Tony, silently communicating everything was fine and watching approvingly as his man relaxed and resignedly nodded with a bowed head.
"Ideally, yes. You can wait in the other room, if you'd like." She spoke for Tony's benefit, "If we need you for anything, you'll be close by."
With a cornered expression, Tony nervously edged over to the couch as everyone filed out to the study. He eased himself into it and gathered the blanket around himself with a shiver. Gibbs grabbed his forearm and leaned close to give him some quiet reassurances before taking Abby by the arm. As she was led away, Abby bent low to grant him a quick peck on the cheek.
And then Tony was alone.