Chapter 10 :One of the Bs is for. . .

Tony's eyes were closed when she reentered the room but she wasn't sure if he was asleep. She watched for a moment, aware only of his pale complexion, his unnatural stillness, the shallowness of his breaths.

She caught herself almost zoning out as she focused on the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Damn, she was an emotional mess and definitely not what he needed at the moment. Her efforts at normality had bordered on desperation, a compelling need within her to confirm that he was all right when clearly he wasn't, but she was at a loss for what else she could do.

She stood still, part of her hoping that he was sleeping. The rest would be good for him - right? Now that he had regained consciousness, now that the doctor had confirmed that there was no permanent physical harm, he should sleep; allow his body to recover. It was best that he slept- wasn't it?

She couldn't help but turn the statements, the affirmations, into questions, as she tried to convince herself. Except she had already seen his nightmares; knew that the physical harm was no longer what she should be worried about, and, that at least part of her desire for him to now continue sleeping was because of the helplessness she felt. She didn't have a clue what to do or say to help him. Wasn't sure that he would even want that from her.

Her eyes slowly refocused on him and she realised with a start that they were open, watching her.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he asked quietly. Whatever she was thinking it would be a welcome distraction from his own, from the spiraling images that once more threatened from the edges of his vision.

Kate shook her head guiltily. "I'm not sure they're worth that much," she replied, taking a seat once more.

He gave a slight nod, forgetting for a moment the neck injury and was rewarded with another sharp stab of pain. He caught the anxious look Kate gave him and tried his best to give her a reassuring smile as he drew in an audible breath. "I've got to remember not to do that," he stated, shifting slightly on the pillows.

If Kate was hoping that it would provide a distraction from her own preoccupied thoughts then she was disappointed.

"So what had you so spaced?" he asked. As if he had the right to ask, as if he wasn't guilty of worse.

"I was just thinking. . ." the words were used as a delaying tactic so she could think of something else to say. Her mind scrambled, for something, anything; her voice took on that sarcastic tone that she used so often in their exchanges. "That you're not nearly as annoying when you're asleep as you are when you're awake."

Damn that was lame and potentially hurtful and so dreadfully, wonderfully normal. Kate cringed as the last word left her lips. She guessed she was still desperate for that normality between them. She held her breath and waited for the year long seconds to pass to see how he would reply.

Tony made to nod but thought better of it. "Yeah," he agreed. "Guess I am."

'Annoying,' the adjective echoed in his mind. Recent images flitted across his vision once more. Jeffrey griping about running, trying to position his arm on the motorbike, the clinging during the ride, the incessant complaining, the need to be liked that flowed off him in waves. Yeah, he was annoying, like a kid brother was annoying. Was that why he'd shot him, because he was too annoying? No, he'd liked him, he had to shoot him he. . . And the images spiraled round again.

Kate, heard the defeat in his tone as he agreed with her, saw the moment at which she lost him, his eyes clouding with confusion and pain. She wasn't one for profanity- good catholic girls didn't think that way, didn't speak that way, but she only had one thought at that moment. And it was a word she wouldn't repeat.

She struggled again for something to say, something to pull his focus back. "Gibbs is on his way," she stated.

Tony heard the sound but he struggled to process it into words. With effort he dragged his focus back to settle on Kate's face. "Sorry?"

"I said, Gibbs is on his way." Kate repeated, somewhat relieved that she had him back, at least for the moment.

Tony stared at her as his mind slowly processed the information. Gibbs was coming to the hospital to see him. Why? Somehow he wasn't remotely surprised to see Kate here. Visiting him was a Kate thing to do, even staying with him, waiting for him to wake up; that was Kate, but it wasn't Gibbs. Gibbs wasn't exactly the sentimental type; he would need a reason.

If Tony had been thinking logically it might have occurred to him, he might even have hoped, that Gibbs would be worried about him. Would want to see for himself that he was all right, but Tony wasn't thinking logically. Besides, he had had the expectation that people would generally worry about his state of health driven out of him long ago. A father who cared only about his financial deals during the day, and where his next whisky was coming from in the evening, and a mother who filled her life with charity work and social engagements, occasionally checking with the latest nanny that you were still alive, tended to make your expectations about where you stood fairly low. Still, over the years Gibbs had him about convinced in his own way that he did matter to him, if only by how pissed off he got whenever he did something stupid or dangerous. In Tony's scrambled mind, however, it was the stronger influences from childhood that guided his thought patterns.

What was wrong? Why would Gibbs come here? Because he was angry, of course. His anxiety levels spiked as he tried to fit a reason to his current perceptions. He winced. "Oh God, he's mad with me isn't he, I'm in trouble. He thinks I should have come in after I lost the second tracking device doesn't he?"

He didn't give Kate a chance to answer as his mind continued to connect his memories. He'd had a brief internal debate at the time. To give up or continue, it was a judgement call. He'd known that to carry on without backup was dangerous. "But I thought I was so close." He looked pleadingly into Kate's eyes, needing her understanding, her approval. "He was about to give me Lane's number when we crashed, I couldn't lose it all, come back with nothing. I'd gained his trust and I knew that I just needed a little longer. I was so close to persuading him, or at least I thought I was," his tone turned from anxiety to bitterness in a heartbeat, his eyes dropping from hers to the covers. "Except he crashed the truck to avoid telling me. . ." He let the sentence trail before looking back up into Kate's eyes, seeking reassurance once more. "I didn't know, Kate I swear, I didn't think there was any danger, he looked so. . .harmless."

Kate took a moment to take a deep breath, her own anxiety had spiked with Tony's he was still too weak to be reacting like this; she was supposed to be the calming influence.

On a normal day Kate would have taken great delight in winding Tony up about exactly how screwed he was, feeding his anxieties, agreeing with his assessment of Gibbs' mood. On a normal day, when Tony didn't looks so weak, so vulnerable, so scared. . .Damn, there were those words that her mother wouldn't approve of forming in her mind. . . .OK, reassurance she could do that. She took a breath. "Nobody thought he was a danger Tony, you wouldn't have been out there with him if we'd known." Her own voice betrayed a trace of the guilt she felt, she swallowed. "And Gibbs isn't angry with you. You took down White and recovered all of the stolen property. Gibbs isn't mad with you at all."

Tony stared at her for a moment. "Really? He's not pissed?"

"No," Kate stated, hoping that she wasn't lying as she answered on Gibbs behalf. "He's really not mad with you."

Tony's eyes continued to search her expression, finally accepting the sincerity of the statement, he allowed himself to relax a little, and a blanket of tiredness seemed to settle over him. It was like someone had placed a tap in his side and was draining away his energy, his eyelids suddenly felt so heavy.

Kate watched his eyes slide closed, relieved as his breathing settled once more into a still too shallow but regular rhythm. It was best that he slept- wasn't it?

NCISNCIS

Tony's eyes slowly refocused as he dragged them open, confusion reigning for a moment as he tried to orient himself, the memories slowly sliding into place, images drifting back like the scenes from a bad nightmare, except this wasn't a nightmare this had happened and he was here and he'd killed Jeffrey and. . .

"Dinozzo?"

Tony shifted slightly so that he could look at the chair where Kate had been sitting; Gibbs steel blue gaze met his.

"Hey boss." Tony replied, pitching for casual, failing.

Gibbs swore, not aloud, not so anyone would hear it, not so that Tony would even notice it, but in his head the swear word was loud and bitter and venomous and carried all of the emotion that he needed to vent at that moment. One look was all it took, one look into Tony's eyes and he saw again what he'd seen in the car. The haunted emptiness was still there. He looked at the floor, he had to look away, had to repeat the swear word over and over as he tried to settle his thoughts. He shifted forward in his seat and placed his coffee on the floor to cover his reaction. Only when he was sure that he could control his expression did he look up again. Time to find out if it was as bad as it looked; time to find out if there was any hope.

"I asked you if you were hurt." Gibbs stated.

Tony's brow furrowed in confusion, he didn't remember Gibbs saying anything before his name. Had he. . ?

"In the car," Gibbs clarified. "I asked you if you were hurt and you said no." He paused, locking gazes once more. "You have a two inch gash in your neck and you almost bled out." He paused again. "You almost died."

Wish I had. The thought flashed through Tony's mind and for a moment he tried to deny it but there was something strong and buried deep that believed it, that had pushed it out in response, because dying couldn't be worse than this. It had to hurt less; it had to feel better than this emptiness where the emotion should be, from this place where the only things that registered were panic and anxiety and pain.

Gibbs saw the thought, it registered in the younger agents' eyes as clearly as if he'd spoken it out loud. This time his mind screamed the expletive.

"I'm sorry," Tony whispered, not sure what he was apologizing for; for not telling Gibbs he was hurt? For not dying? For wanting to die?

Gibbs clenched his jaw, the muscle on the side twitching slightly as he controlled the urge to utter the words he was thinking, not that he had any hang-ups from a Catholic education like Kate had, but because verbalizing them would only make the situation worse. The Gibbs Tony knew, the Gibbs Tony relied on was strong and calm and always knew what to do, and that was the Gibbs that Tony needed in the room with him now, not the one that felt a deep pain tearing at his gut, because he was afraid, afraid that Tony was too far gone to bring back.

He ignored the apology. "We recovered everything," he stated, "McGee's still helping to catalogue it all but it looks like the container was shipped intact." He paused for a moment but there was no response.

Tony's gaze had dropped to the blankets in front of him. He knew that he should be feeling something, knew that he should be pleased that he'd completed his assignment, done his job, closed the case, but he didn't feel anything, nothing. He shifted uncomfortably.

"Director Morrow sends his congratulations on a job well done," Gibbs tried. Still there was nothing.

Praise from the director, that was rare; rarer than praise from Gibbs, which meant that it was pretty much a never thing and still he felt nothing, no pride, no elation, no satisfaction, nothing. He stared at his hands as he'd done in the car, fascinated by the bright droplets of blood on them.

Gibbs leaned forward. "It was a good shoot Tony. You did what you had to do."

Tony looked up at that, meeting Gibbs' gaze, realising that he wasn't still in the car, that he was in the hospital. He glanced back down at his hands; they were clean. Confused, he looked back up, searching Gibbs' expression, noting the concern. Dammit! What the hell was wrong with him? He took a breath allowing his mind to process Gibbs' last statement once more. Logically he knew that Gibbs was right. He hadn't had a choice, it was kill or be killed. He'd left it until the last possible minute, had almost left it too late, he didn't have a choice, he'd had to kill before. So why. . . ? "I really liked him," he finally stated quietly.

Gibbs almost lost his tenuous control at the repeat of the phrase. It was like Tony was still stuck in that damned car. "White was a cold-blooded killer," he stated, his voice remarkably calm. "He killed three other people in Seattle before he came out here. Abby pulled his record, he slit their throats."

Tony swallowed, almost raising a hand to touch the bandage on his neck; instead he just clenched his fist. "Lane?"

"Throat slit clean through to the spine, very messy. We found his body outside the cabin."

Tony closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. White had killed Lane, cleaned himself up and then calmly sat and watched him sleep. "I didn't know." He opened his eyes and looked back at Gibbs. He'd been uneasy at the time, frightened even, but he'd dismissed it as an over active imagination. He should have known, should have followed what his gut was telling him. "He told me Lane had taken the bike and was trying to beat us to the buyer." His eyes dropped. There was the briefest of pauses. "I believed him." The next pause was longer. "Half of what he told me was lies and I believed him."

Gibbs took a moment to study him, leaning forward in the chair. "No reason you shouldn't." His tone was uncharacteristically soft. "He had everyone fooled," me included, "even Seattle P.D. put the previous murders down to Lane," and I chained you to the guy and sent you out alone with him. Gibbs only allowed the self-recrimination as a thought. Tony didn't need anyone else's emotional burdens.

Tony tried hard to take in what Gibbs was saying, knew that he was trying to put what he had done into context. Jeffrey White was a killer, had nearly killed him, he shouldn't be feeling remorse about the shooting, not like this. On a rational logical level he knew that he had no choice and yet. . .It was the incongruity of the situation, of how Jeffrey had appeared and the reality of who he was. Somehow, no matter how much he tried, it just wasn't processing. There were aspects of Jeffrey's personality that just hit too close to home, that Tony could identify with. Jeffrey had wanted to be his friend, had asked him to watch his back, had given him the gun. He felt the cold metal in his hands, looked down but it wasn't there, his hands were empty. . . Damn!

Gibbs watched him a little longer, watched the internal struggle and cursed once again.

Gibbs deserved his reputation as a bastard, most of the time he didn't consider the feelings of others, not where the job was concerned. Hell, not where most things were concerned, hence the three wives and friends amongst only those few who bothered to look below the surface, who stopped to consider the whys when he seemed to ride roughshod over their emotional responses.

There were days when being a bastard was fun, brought amusing responses, or just allowed him to enjoy the reactions to his outrageous behaviour. There were other days when it was just practical and expedient to do so. There were even days when he genuinely didn't notice he was doing it, unless someone pointed it out, and then there were days like today. Days where he knew exactly what he was doing, and it hurt like hell.

"Dinozzo, it was a good shoot. You know that right?"

Tony looked up at the suddenly sharp tone. "I. . ."

Gibbs didn't give him a chance to answer. "As soon as you're cleared to get out of here I need you to come in and give a statement, and look at the bodies of both Jeffrey White and Lane Donaldson."

Tony's already pale complexion lightened a shade, Gibbs wanted him to look at the bodies he didn't think he could, didn't want to see.. . .

"You're then on permanent medical leave until you're cleared for duty by psych. I'll get Kate to make an appointment for you."

Tony allowed the confusion to show. "But I. . ."

Gibbs eyes narrowed as he waited for Tony's gaze to finally meet his, his expression as cold as steel. "Look Dinozzo, I want you back on the team but if you can't get past this then I'll need you to clear your desk and make way for someone who can." He pushed his chair back and stood. Forcing himself to ignore the pain and confusion on the younger agent's face. He paused by the door, almost giving in to the temptation to turn and offer some sort of comfort but that wasn't his role here. He walked out into the corridor without looking back.

There were days when being a bastard hurt like hell.

Kate was waiting for him, her eyes glistening with tears and flashing with anger. She'd clearly been listening by the door. She stood in front of him trying to bring her anger under enough control so that she could speak.

Gibbs tried to ignore her, tried to step around her. But she moved to block his path.

"What the Hell were you doing in there?" she asked, raising herself up as high as she could and moving her face into Gibbs personal space. "How could you say that to him? You can see the state he's in. Whatever happened to him in that car was deeply traumatic and he needs our help and sympathy, not threats to take his job away from him, and orders to look at the bodies. He needs. . ." Kate's tirade finally stopped as she looked up into Gibbs eyes and saw something there, was that pain?

"Are you finished?" he asked evenly.

Kate took a small step back, suddenly confused. "I guess. . ."

"Good," Gibbs stated and made to move around her once more.

She let him almost pass. "Gibbs?"

He stopped mid-stride and seemed to hesitate, for a moment she thought he was just going to walk off but instead he turned. "What Kate? What does he need?"

She looked into his eyes processing the question. "I don't know," she admitted quietly.

Gibbs let out a long slow breath, allowing his muscles to relax as some of the tension of the last few minutes drained away. He tilted his head slightly to one side. "Do you want Dinozzo back?"

That was a stupid question, of course she wanted him back why wouldn't she. . ."Yes," she answered simply.

"Then we need him to fight Kate." He looked across to the door to Tony's room. "We need him to fight."