A/N: Apologies for the long wait, but here's chapter five

Chapter Five

When Tony suddenly awoke out of his nightmare, he was still on the couch with the light on. He checked his watch: 00:35. He glanced at his phone to see he had no new messages. He slowly got up to check his answering machine only to find there were no new messages there either. He quickly realized he didn't have enough time to wait for his father to call. Looking at his watch again, it was now 00:45. He needed to get to the office to look into his father like he was advised to do. Figuring everyone else, except possibly Gibbs, had gone home by now, he decided to head over there. He checked his pocket for his keys, which was when he realized he'd left his keys at his desk. He was going to have to take another cab. He grabbed his phone and his gun and headed out the door.

As the elevator approached his floor, he crossed his fingers that Gibbs had gone home. His prayers were answered when he stepped out and saw that the bullpen was completely empty. He didn't waste any time getting to his desk and switching on his computer that someone must have turned off when he didn't come back into the office last night.

He typed in his father's name and was met with a lot of information, so he decided he needed to narrow it down to get what he needed faster. He typed in the keyword, 'Brick-Hills Organization'. As soon as he hit enter, he saw the contract appear. He clicked on it, curiosity piqued.

As he read through it carefully, what he saw absolutely horrified him and he wouldn't have believed it if he wasn't seeing it with his own eyes.

24 years ago, very shortly after Tony's mother had died, his father had taken money from the Brick-Hills organization. Why? Tony wasn't sure yet. But the part that had him horrified was that he saw his name listed. His father had listed him as collateral in the case he couldn't pay the money back. And then, everything clicked into place—why the organization was coming after him, why he was the one being given an ultimatum.

He slipped out the manila envelope again and turned it upside down on his desk. Along with the picture, a small disk fell out that Tony hadn't noticed before. He didn't know how he'd missed it, but in his defense, there had been a lot going on yesterday, There was a handwritten note on the top of the disk: DiNozzo, 02-28-81. Uneasy at that title, he looked around him to look for any observers, but fortunately found none, so he popped the disk into his computer to see what was on it.

He watched as a young boy facing away from the camera appeared in the middle of the screen, appearing to be at a school playground.

The camera zoomed out to show that there was roughly 10 to 15 other kids on the playground, give or take, but only 1 adult—presumably a teacher or principal—standing far on the other side of the playground than the original boy, who was now throwing down his backpack, taking off his coat and gloves and throwing them down by his backpack, and climbing up on top of the monkey bars. Making it to the top, the boy turned as he sat down, his feet dangling high above the ground, showing his face to the camera for the first time, before he gracefully leaned back, hanging upside down from his knees on the middle bar.

As Tony watched, his shoulders tensed as he let out a quiet, almost inaudible gasp of realization as he recognized the boy. He recognized the boy because it was him.

The teacher in the video called out from her end of the playground, "Anthony DiNozzo! Get down from there this instant before you break your neck! And put your coat back on—it's 32 degrees!" before she turned and began to reprimand another boy who had pushed a little girl off a swing.

The video zoomed back in on 8-year old Tony as he pulled himself back into a seating position, shrugged at the adult's request, and then promptly jumped from where he sat, landing easily on his feet on the sandy ground. He walked back over to where his things laid on the ground and slipped his coat back on, shoving the gloves into his coat pockets.

After Tony pulled on his backpack, he began to walk towards the swings as a man walked up to him, sneaking up behind the boy. "Are you Tony? Anthony DiNozzo's boy?"

Tony turned, looking the man up and down, before answering, "That depends. Who's asking?"

The man smiled. "I'm David. Your father sent me to pick you up from school."

"Hmm," Tony said as he comically placed the thumb and forefinger of his right hand across his jawline, as if in serious thought.

"What?" the man asked.

"I guess I'm conflicted," Tony told him. "On the one hand, sending a complete and total stranger to pick me up from school does sound like something my dad would do."

"And on the other?" the man attempted to hurry the ever dramatic 8-year old on.

Tony looked up, making eye contact with the man, before telling him clearly, "There's no way in hell I'm getting in a car with you."

The man smiled forcefully as he looked at the difficult child. "If you don't come with me, how are you going to get home? Because your dad isn't coming."

"I'll walk four blocks and take the subway," Tony answered with a smirk. "It's not like I haven't done it before."

"Why don't you trust me?" the man asked.

"I'm sorry," Tony said suddenly. "Did I miss when you gave me a reason to trust you?"

"You're worried I'm gonna kidnap you." It wasn't a question. Tony raised an eyebrow as the man continued, "You're―what?―50 pounds? If I was planning on kidnapping you, why would I waste time talking instead of just grabbing you and forcing you into my car?"

Tony paused dramatically as he pretended to think hard, thumb and forefinger on his jawline again. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe the fact that you're in a schoolyard and there's about a hundred witnesses is deterring you..?"

"So you are scared?" the man said, clearly trying to bait the proud DiNozzo.

"I'm not scared," Tony told him. "I'm just not stupid," then, he added jokingly, "contrary to what my teacher would tell you."

"Well, you're talking to me..? That's not stranger danger protocol, is it?" the man told him.

"Yeah, well, I talk to everybody," Tony told him. "And I have yet to be thrown into the back of a white van."

As the teacher finally looked over and saw the strange man talking to the 8-year old child, she called out, "Hey! Who are you?!" as she started to run towards them.

The man quickly said to Tony, "You're right. You are smart. Just do me a favor and tell your dad that Dave said hi."

"O-kay," Tony said, bewildered as the man suddenly started walking towards the gate which led to the parking lot. He reached towards the lense of the camera and the view followed him until the screen went black.

When the video ended and Tony's computer screen went black, he just sat there for a second, feeling numb, like everything he thought he knew about himself, his life, his father was a lie.

When he recovered from his state of despair, at least for the time being, he watched the video a few more times.

After his screen went black after his fourth time playing the video, Tony realized something about the whole situation. The organization had figured at the time the contract was signed that a father would care deeply about his child, which was why they accepted him as collatoral—they assumed his father would do anything to keep his child out of danger. However, once they started keeping tabs on Tony and watching him and his father as a result, they had to have realized his father couldn't care less about his son. In fact, it had seemed he'd found a loop hole to the web he'd woven. Once realizing this, the organization would've probably gone after his father directly instead once he didn't pay them back, but when they watched Tony become a detective, then a federal agent, they must've realized they had more leverage with Tony than they ever would with his father anyway, so they had directed their attention solely on Tony, meaning his father basically got away with everything, at least as far as Tony knew.

But then he realized how little he knew. Hell, as far as he knew, they may have already kidnapped his father and were keeping him as assurance that Tony paid, knowing Tony still cared for his father, even though it wasn't reciprocal. Or maybe they'd already killed him. Perhaps that was why his father hadn't called him back—perhaps he couldn't.

He continued looking into his father's connection with the organization and, before he knew it, it was 05:00 and other early rising agents were arriving and heading to their desks.

When Gibbs arrived around 06:00, the first thing he noticed was Tony's presence. It was true that it wasn't unusual for Tony to come into the office in the wee hours of the morning and work, but that didn't make it any less worrisome after yesterday's events. He wanted to talk to Tony now that he'd had some time to calm down, but he had to meet with the Director first, then he had to talk to Ducky about the case, and then Abby, so his talk with Tony would have to wait.

As he entered the bullpen, the silence was deafening. It was unclear if Tony just didn't notice his boss' presence or was simply ignoring his presence, but either way, he offered no semblance of greeting as he appeared hyper-focused on his computer screen. Gibbs silently watched Tony seemingly unnoticed by the younger man for a few minutes before heading upstairs to the Director's office.

Kate and McGee arrived simultaneously at 06:45. They chatted a bit in the elevator, but it quickly fizzled out when they both noticed Tony at his desk at the same time, currently on the phone.

As they approached, Tony saw them through the corner of his eye, and he quickly said, "Can you please call me back as soon as you get this? It's important," then hung up the phone.

Neither Kate nor McGee said anything as they settled into their chairs at their respective desks. The tension in the squad room at the moment could've been cut with a knife until Tony finally glanced over at Kate and told her, "Hey, about yesterday," he began as she looked up. "That was completely out of line. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it," she told him simply, kind of taken aback by his genuineness. "I was out of line too."

"It won't happen again," he told her sincerely.

"I believe you," she promised. Then, with a small smile, she told him, "But don't let Gibbs hear you talking like that."

"Like what?" Tony asked, confused.

"Apologizing," she explained.

"Oh," Tony said, with a small smile of his own, "yeah."

After he finished with the Director, Gibbs headed down to Abby's lab, Caf-Pow in hand. "Morning, Abs," he greeted her as he handed her the drink.

She grabbed the cup, took a big swig, then turned to Gibbs seriously and suddenly asked, "Is Tony okay?"

Kind of taken aback by the question given that he had been wondering the exact same thing, he replied, "Why?"

"McGee stopped by before he left last night. He said Tony had gone home a couple hours before. That's not like him, and you know it," Abby told him.

Sidestepping her question, which he didn't yet have an accurate answer for, he asked, "What d'ya got?"

"Gibbs," she scolded, letting him know she wasn't going to say anything about the case until she got an answer to her question.

Gibbs sighed, then told her, putting a hand on her shoulder, "DiNozzo will be fine, trust me. Now what d'ya got?"

"The bullets from the gun that killed Petty Officer Porter were from a Sig Sauer P226," Abby explained. "I know that doesn't narrow down enough, but find me a gun and I'll have more for you."

"Thanks, Abs," Gibbs said as he headed out.

Before he was out of earshot, Abby called at his back, "Are you sure Tony's okay?"

"Don't worry about him, Abs," Gibbs called back as he headed over to autopsy. As soon as he entered, he called over Ducky's rambling in the near empty room, "Got a question for you, Duck."

"Well, I'll do my best to give you an answer," Ducky told him. As he glanced over at his friend, he saw something in his face, and asked, "About the case or…something else?"

"DiNozzo," Gibbs said simply as if that was all he needed to say.

"Okay," Ducky said. "What about Anthony?"

"Have you noticed anything…off about him this week?" Gibbs asked.

"Hmm," Ducky replied. "Off how?"

"Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary for him?" Gibbs asked again.

"Well, now that you mention it, I haven't seen Anthony at all this week," Ducky realized. "That's rather odd in and of itself. Why do you ask?"

"Something's wrong, Duck," Gibbs told him.

"What?" Ducky wondered.

"I don't know. But he isn't acting like himself—not even close. I just have this feeling…" Gibbs said.

"Well," Ducky told him, "in my experience, your gut's usually right."
Gibbs nodded, then directed his attention to the dead body on the table, imploring Ducky to tell him what new information he had.

Ducky complied. "Well, he didn't go down easy. He has defensive wounds on his hands and arms. And the bullet wounds weren't the only injuries he sustained. There are also stab wounds in his back. But the weird thing is he received the stab wounds postmortem, meaning—"

"—someone stabbed a dead guy," Gibbs finished. Now he just needed to figure out why. "Thanks, Duck."

"Where's DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked Kate and McGee as he entered the bullpen.

"I don't know," Kate replied, which caused Gibbs to look over at her from his desk. She quickly explained, "But he said he'd be right back."

As if on cue, Tony reentered the bullpen, and Gibbs noted that he still neglected to say anything to his boss. Gibbs once again sat and watched Tony for a few minutes, but when the latter either didn't notice or didn't care, he called for everyone to follow him to interrogation, which they did, even Tony, though, Gibbs noticed, he was the last one to get up from his chair and trailed behind instead of practically stepping on Gibbs' heels like he usually did.

Gibbs sent the three agents to observe as he walked into the interrogation room.

"You said Petty Officer Porter asked you to follow his wife," Gibbs said to Anna.

"Yeah. He thought she was cheating on him," she repeated.

"Was she?" Gibbs asked as he sat on the opposite side of the table.

After a minute, she said, "Normally I like to respect the privacy of my clients, but, seeing as he's dead and his wife's a bitch and my ass is on the line now, I'll just tell you, Yeah, she was having an affair."

"With who?" Gibbs asked, though he already knew what she would say.

"Their neighbor. Bill Haywood," she said. "And from what I saw, they'd been seeing each other for a while."

"Yeah? Why do you say that?" Gibbs wondered.

After a minute, Anna explained, "Bill proposed to her last week, and she was more than happy to say yes."

Gibbs had planned to talk to Tony before the day ended, but the day had gotten away from all four agents, and when Gibbs came back from his final coffee run, Tony had already slipped out, which, like Abby had mentioned that morning, was extremely unlike Tony. Of all his brilliant agents, he would peg Tony as the one most likely to stay until dismissed, even if that wasn't until 03:00—Tony had his flaws, sure, but you couldn't find a more loyal agent. Gibbs was losing his patience on waiting for Tony to talk to him, but he decided to give it until the weekend, hopefully after having closed the case. For all he knew, that's what Tony was waiting for too.

Tony arrived at his apartment completely exhausted. Normally, he was the agent with the most energy and enthusiasm, but today, he just didn't have it in him to even fake either. He still had no idea what he was going to do about the organization. Obviously, he couldn't give them the case files they wanted, but getting the money wouldn't be easy either. He figured he'd sleep tonight and figure it all out after work tomorrow and over the weekend. But as soon as he opened the door, that plan changed.

"It's about damn time, Junior," a voice said gruffly as he opened the door and flipped on the lights.

"Dad..? What are you doing here?" Tony asked, caught by surprise as he slowly closed the door behind him.

"What do you think?" the man asked. "I got about 50 calls from you pissing your pants, so here I am."

"I just wanted you to call me," Tony said, still a little shocked that his father was in his apartment. Tony shook his head, then said, "I'm sorry. How did you get here?"

"How the hell do you think? A plane," his father answered.

"No, I meant inside my apart—"

"Do you want to stand here and chit-chat or is there something you wanted from me?" his father told him impatiently.

"Um…" Tony had been hurt and angry when he found out what his father had done so long ago, but now standing in front of the man who had somehow both terrorized him while also barely making an appearance in his life as a kid, he'd lost his courage. He took a deep breath—well, as deep as he could muster—and then said, "I left you a message. About the Brick-Hills Organization?"

"What about it?" his father said, indicating he knew exactly what Tony was talking about, which somehow hurt worse than if he hadn't remembered at all.

"Well…" Tony tried to recover from his hurt quickly. "They want their money back."

"So?" his father asked coldly. "What does that have to do with me?"

"It's your debt," Tony said smartly before thinking, which earned him a hard, almost deafening slap across his face.

"Watch your mouth," his father warned as Tony took an involuntary step back as he raised a hand to rub his stinging face. "Sounds like this is your problem. Shame you couldn't have said that before I flew all the way here."

"I told you everything over the phone," Tony told him as he stood upright again. Then, he said quietly, "I need your help."

"Last I checked, you were a grown adult and not my responsibility anymore," his father told him.

"Like I was ever your responsibility," Tony said, barely above a whisper.

"What was that, boy?!" his father snapped.

"Nothing," Tony told him. Then, he explained, "I can't do this alone. I don't have the money."

"Again, I ask how is this my problem?" his father wondered.

Tony stood quietly for a second, as if he'd just been slapped again, and then explained, "I need you to give me the money."

His father almost laughed as he said, "Whoa, whoa, whoa! I'm not a charity. You can find your own way out of this mess."

"It's your mess!" Tony told him. Then, he took a deep breath to calm down, and said, "Look, I just need a little help."

"Wow," his father said, shaking his head. "I can't believe how pathetic you are. Are you really begging for money like you're 5-years old?" He stepped past Tony as he headed for the door. "I knew I shouldn't have wasted my time coming down here. When have you ever been anything but a waste of my time?"

"Dad, please!" Tony called at his back. "They're going to kill me! And then, they'll probably kill you too!"

His father shook his head as he opened the door. "You're being dramatic as per usual. Just think about it, Junior. It would be a waste of time killing you. Who would care? If anything, it would be a burden off of everyone who knows you. Just doesn't make sense to kill you." Even though Tony was used to his father's verbal blows by now, the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach at his father's words was still painfully present. "Don't waste my time over something this stupid again," his father said before leaving and slamming the door behind him.

Tony wasn't sure how long he stood there, staring at the door, feeling completely empty, but when he finally looked away and glanced out the window, he noticed that the sun had started to rise. Not having the energy to get to his bedroom, let alone climb into his bed, he collapsed on the couch and fell into a restless sleep.