"Fire away."

Dr. Johnson adjusted her glasses, and stared at Tony through the plastic frames. "This isn't a execution, Special Agent Dinozzo."

"I know. I think I would rather be shot."

"You've had mandatory psychological evaluations before, Special Agent Dinozzo. You've never been enthusiastic, but you've never compared our meetings to archaic capital punishment either."

"Sorry," said Tony. "I've had a bad week."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

"No."

Dr. Johnson sighed. "Do it anyway."

Tony ran his fingers through his hair, making sure that his hands shook. He knew that Dr. Johnson would demand a second session if he smiled too much. He had to give her something. His hands had to shake, or voice had to break, or he had to slip a Freudian phrase into the dialogue.

"We were investigating a murder at Norfolk. I interviewed an officer named Lieutenant Sexton. He wasn't a suspect, so I didn't have backup. He slipped sedatives into my coffee. When I woke up, I was tied to a tree in Anacostia Park."

"How did you sustain the injuries to your hands?"

"He crucified me."

"Pardon me?" Dr. Johnson said. "He crucified you?"

Her glasses were sliding down her nose again. Tony looked at the thick white bandages that shrouded his palms. His hands were still shaking. He didn't understand Christianity. It was the father thing.

"Not for long," said Tony. "Gibbs shot him. I said that it was wrong to persecute someone for their religious beliefs, but he told me to shut up or he would persecute me too."

"Lieutenant Sexton crucified you?" Dr. Johnson repeated.

"He thought I was the Savior," said Tony. "Can you blame him?"