A/N - OH MAN - I really owe so many of you apologies. EVERY time I went to get back to this, I got a life foible in my face. So finally, after much ado, the story continues.

Forgive me !

More to come.

MG

McGee sighed.

He took in the still ashen complexion and darkness around his friend's eyes. The bandaged wrists were a disturbing reminder...

Even though they had Tony back, Tim still awoke that morning from a nightmare…He dreamt they had found Tony just like LC Colletti, dead, with all 5 symbols burned into his flesh, throat cut.

McGee shivered.

Tony was alive though, alive and safe. Tim had been glad to tell Fornell he would take the paperwork and try to get it done with Tony, while Fornell hunted the one remaining member of Black Eddie's flock unaccounted for. While Tim wanted him, and wanted him bad, he felt it was more important to be with Tony for this. Gibbs had been called in by Fornell to wrap up his own statements for the case, but Tim knew Gibbs wanted a direct report from Fornell on the manhunt.

Tony was yet unaware there were two Agents outside his door, for his protection.

Tim knew that this was going to be hard. Tony had been through an ordeal none of them could likely fathom. He was almost afraid to know all the details, though all the collected evidence told most of the story already.

But worse than all of it, harder to accept, was the silence. McGee had been horrified when Gibbs told him earlier that Tony had been left with psychological trauma deep enough to keep him from being able to speak.

Silent Tony was...just not right. The haunted look in his eyes was almost too much for Tim to bear. Guilt gnawed at him inside. He had come into the room quietly and just sat in the chair until Tony woke up, going over all the events that lead to Tony being in that bed, and not him.

When Tony finally stirred and opened his eyes, he gave McGee a weak smile but not much more. McGee tried to get him to eat but all Tony could manage was some broth.

And then the inevitable moment when McGee placed the victim report paperwork down on the hospital tray.

Tim fidgeted. "I'm sorry, Tony. I know...all this just happened...to you...but we need your interview..."

Tony frowned and looked up from the forms and notepaper, at MCGee's pale face and eyes full of damnable pity.

Tony had hoped that because he was obviously fucked up from everything, that they would give him time. In fact…never might be good. He was barely hanging onto his sanity by a thread. Only the sedation from the Doctors and Nurses brought him sleep without dreams of shrieking little girls being sliced to pieces.

And it didn't take much for his mind to wander there while he was awake. A terrible self hatred had settled into him. He was a trained Federal Agent. How was it two children died and he actually…he drank…

He blinked and forced away the thoughts, hoping a Doctor or a Nurse would walk in right now…save him from going over the whole thing.

But, he knew it wasn't just about him. He knew what Gibbs would say too, how disappointed Gibbs would be if he didn't do everything he could even now. So many deaths surrounded Black Eddy…families needed closure…

He bit his lip and looked down, away from Tim's acute study, willing his hands not to tremble as he picked up the pen. Tim shuffled a little nervously, his pale green eyes scanning Tony's face with genuine concern.

He scribbled the note and held it up to McGee. "Not your fault. It was either you or Feeb's right ? Have to do this."

McGee smiled wanly and nodded. "You need me to get you anything, Tony? You want a drink or-"

Tony shook his head, and took a sharp inhale through his nose. He nervously scratched his face where stubble was itching him. Then picked up the pen.

And he slowly began to write. The room was silent except for the slight sound of the ballpoint.

McGee watched as the words continued to come, filling a page, then another. Tony's expression was tight and stony. And then he saw the hand on that pen start to shake more and more. And suddenly the writing stopped.

Tony seemed to freeze for a moment, staring ahead at nothing, and suddenly with both hands crumpled and threw the papers and pen on the floor, and his breath came in heaving gasps.

Tim jumped up and put a hand out to rest on his SFA's shoulder, to try to reassure the man.

Tony covered his face. He had already lost his shit completely in front of Doctors and Gibbs...and now McGee. He tried not to let the anxiety, the feeling of someone squeezing every last bit of oxygen out of his lungs, override his mind. But it got so intense he couldn't think straight, and terrible images flashed through his vision. Even the smell of blood…the sound of desperate screams echoed in him. He couldn't help it. Writing out all of what had happened and thinking about the little girls who were so frightened...how they'd died..what he had done...made him sick inside beyond measure. There were families who had lost their little ones to terrible ends. And the little ones had been incinerated.

The families had nothing to bury.

Tony had promised them help was coming. They were just innocent babies. The pain of it all, the guilt he felt and the helplessness, were stunning.

It took him a while to realize someone was talking to him urgently, holding his wrists away from his face.

Oh, right, McGee, he thought. He blinked away the water that still clouded his vision to see MCGee was strangely tearful as well.

"I'm so sorry Tony," he shook with emotion. "It should have been me...you saved me from those crazy people and they took you..." He saw Tony was finally looking at him with a mix of confusion and despair. "It shouldn't have been-"

Suddenly Tony jerked his hands away from Tim and shook his head sadly.

McGee stood back quickly, thinking Tony was angry with him. But Tony just stared at him for a moment and blinked. Then he pointed at the pen on the floor and paper.

Tim shakily said, "oh...okay..." And quickly retrieved them for him.

With still trembling fingers Tony scribbled quickly, "Knock it off McGulitfest."

Tim's eyebrows shot up. "Uhhh, wha-"

Tony wrote again furiously And underlined each word three times "NOT your fault".

McGee sighed and then looked sadly at Tony. "Okay. Okay Tony. But it doesn't mean I can't feel bad about it, or worried. I mean...you have no idea how worried we were about you." His voice was getting louder, more incredulous sounding, with every word without him realizing it. "And those sick bastards sent us that video-"

Now Tony's eyebrows shot up.

Tim forgot. Tony didn't know about that part yet...probably shouldn't have yet either. But it was too late.

Tony tilted his head and then looked down and scribbled three question marks on the paper. And looked again at McGee expectantly while his hand shook holding the question marks up.

McGee looked away and grimaced. He knew he should not say another word, but Tony would never accept not knowing.

A loud bang of Tony slamming his hand on the hospital tray snapped McGee's wide eyes back to him

McGee murmured sadly, "The first ritual. Black Eddie sent it to...to torture Gibbs."

Tony's mouth dropped open.

They had seen...seen what had been done to him and poor Jackie. And then what they'd made him do...

He closed his eyes, feeling like he wanted to disappear. There was proof on video of the nightmare, casting no doubt it had happened and Tony's disgusting part in it. He felt dizzy and suddenly clutched the rail of the hospital bed. McGee made it just in time with a trash pail for him not vomit up the meager soup they had gotten into him earlier.

He laid back with his eyes closed until he felt McGee press a washcloth into his hand.

He absently wiped his face off and nodded weakly to McGee.

And while his Probie was disposing of the washcloth, Tony turned onto his side, curling up, and closed his eyes so he didn't have to acknowledge his friends presence anymore.

He heard a sigh, and then sounds of Tim straightening up some of the papers. He hear the pen and McGee writing something that seemed as long as a goddamned essay, and then the sound of him walking softly as he left the room and the door closed behind him with a snick.

Tony opened his eyes, relieved Tim and his sympathy were gone. he turned a little, just to look at the note McGee left.

His eyes welled up again as he read the words, "Write it up when you feel you can. We are all here for you. There's nothing you could have done either Tony. It's not your fault."

Well, shit.

Gibbs stood in the Autopsy suite, next to the open drawer where Theodore Handel, aka Black Eddie was now going to await transport to his final resting place.

Somehow after finishing up with Fornell, he found himself down in the cold room.

"I dunno' whether to damn you to Hell, or myself," Gibbs said softly, his icy blue eyes drifting over Handel's face.

He remembered the genuine smile and earnest expression that had once been on that face.

"I should have…" Gibbs swallowed harshly, "should have checked. Even once. I would have tried…"

He snorted at himself in disgust. "Shoulda, coulda, woulda…"He took a breath and sighed. "At least you can't hurt anyone else now."

Gibbs let all the events finally play freely in his mind. He thought hard on the idea that he could have done differently. But when he thought about his girls…what had happened to them…he knew he'd actually gone out of his mind himself for a while back then. Maybe he was no more able to have helped Teddy, than Teddy would have been able to think normally after a brain injury. But it was Gibbs that Teddy had fixated on…

Gibbs shook his head. This thinking could just go around and around.

He knew Ducky was right to a point. He couldn't help being human…in suffering the loss of his family. And he had family now that needed him.

Hell, probably the only people not feeling guilty were Ducky and Palmer.

Maybe…maybe Gibbs was the one who had to start the ball rolling. To accept what happened, and leave the guilt and blame on the people who perpetrated the crimes.

Gibbs took the sheet, and raised it up and over Handel's head. "I'm not sayin' good bye to Black Eddie, because he was a heartless insane sonuvabitch who can rot in Hell. But Ted Handel…" Gibbs eyes misted a little as he closed the drawer. "We lost you a long time ago…but…you were a hell of a Marine, Teddy. And I'll always be sorry."