Spoilers: General for third season, up to at least 3.10 (Probie).
Disclaimer: Don't own anything, not being paid.
A/N: I started writing this as a Christmas present for Tweeter in December last year, and finished it in March. Huge thanks to Cha Oseye Tempest Thrain and Kate98 for betaing.
Don't leave me alone. Please, don't leave me alone.
He glanced over at the man and pulled his bent legs closer to his body. "Do you ever worry, Boss?"
"About what, DiNozzo?" came the quiet reply.
He hesitated. "Never mind." He rubbed his hands along his legs, trying to warm them. "Do you ever worry that one of us is going to screw up so badly that it'll get you killed?"
There was silence for a few moments, and Tony thought Gibbs wasn't going to answer. He was about to tell Gibbs to forget it, when the other man replied, "Of course I do."
Tony felt his heart speed up painfully at Gibbs' words. He may have hoped that Gibbs would answer in the negative, but he'd known that there was no way he could.
"But I also worry that I'll get one of you killed. After all, it's already happened."
Kate. That was the only person Gibbs could be referring to. "That wasn't your fault, Boss." Tony's heart settled into a normal rhythm as he pulled his legs even closer, shivering slightly, finding it difficult to draw in a full breath.
"Just like it wasn't my fault that you were shackled to a murderer?"
"No," he protested, wishing he could get Gibbs to face him. "You couldn't have known. I was chained to the man, and I didn't pick it up until it was almost too late."
"When we found-" Gibbs broke off. "I was terrified that it was you. You should never have been in that situation."
Tony leant his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.
"You're like a son to me."
He rolled his head towards Gibbs and opened his eyes. Nothing had changed. "Please don't leave me alone here," he whispered. There was no reply. He turned to lie on his other side, facing away from Gibbs. He hissed in pain as his muscles protested the abuse of moving, and swallowed a cough. His head pounded as he tried to settle himself comfortably.
Comfortable. That was a joke.
"What, Tony?"
He hadn't realised he'd spoken aloud; he was more tired than he had thought. "I said you definitely can't fault them for their hospitality." He reached out a hand to the brick wall, running a finger down its roughness. When he reached the concrete floor, he started again, following the lines of the mortar.
"We're going to get out of here."
Tony gave a short humourless laugh, withdrawing his hand from the wall and studying his dirty fingers. "Sure we will. I bet McGee-" sitting happily at Tony's desk, "and Ziva are looking everywhere for us." Not us, you. "After all, you're the Director's 'best Agent'. She won't want to lose you," he muttered, putting air quotes around the words.
Tony took the heavy silence from the other man as agreement with his assessment. He pressed his lips together tightly. As much as he was used to it, it still hurt. He wasn't asking for much, but he never got it. "Why can't you ever tell me that I've done a good job?" He felt his throat start to tighten up as he breathed the words. "Is it because I disappoint you?"
"Tony."
Tony jerked over to face Gibbs, feeling his heart rise slightly, but the man was unmoving, still. He smiled, mocking himself. "I must be starting to lose it, Boss. Not that you can hear me." Hearing would be the next thing to go, after his eyesight. "Or that you care."
He could feel the tears hovering, it wouldn't take much to push them over the edge. "Nobody ever cares."
He sniffed and manoeuvred himself flat on the floor, copying Gibbs' pose. His emotions were so raw, so close to the surface, that they were exhausting him. He closed his eyes and listened to his own breathing. It hitched every so often, as a new bruise or sore muscle made itself felt.
He was alone. It was something that he'd tried to avoid most of his life, as it terrified him more than any gun-wielding maniac ever could. Would anyone care that he was missing? Did anyone actually care about him? From what he could remember of when he was sick with the plague, Kate had genuinely seemed to care. The jury was out on whether Gibbs had, he just wasn't sure. Gibbs' words had provided him with the belief he had needed to get well, but he was sure that there was no affection there - just a boss who didn't want to have to fill out the paperwork involved with a subordinate's death. As uncaring as his father's order for a doctor to look him over after managing to forget about him for two days.
"I'll be good, just please don't leave me alone." He glanced over at Gibbs to see whether his whispered plea had any effect. Just like before, it hadn't.
"My father never apologised for forgetting me in Maui. He never explained, never offered any excuse. The only way I got through it was by watching movies, and imagining that I was a part of them. I imagined that I was the son of a sea-cook - you know, that old Cary Grant movie, Arsenic and Old Lace?"
"Yeah, I know," Gibbs quietly said.
"God, I loved that movie. I'd run up the stairs to my room yelling 'charge' and slam the door. It used to drive my parents nuts." He sniggered. "Once, they were hosting a party. I had to put in an appearance, because, you know, got to be the dutiful son. I started telling the guests how my parents had me digging a canal in the basement and burying all the help that my mother hired." He shifted slightly, trying to take pressure off a particularly sore point in his back. He started coughing, finding it hard to draw in a breath. Tony lifted himself up, the need to breathe outweighing the pain the movement provoked. His breathing eased, and he dragged himself back to lean against the cold wall. "Of course, they didn't believe a word I said, they'd just look at me with pity in their eyes. I topped the evening off by doing the charge." He chuckled softly, coughing at the end of it. "About ten years ago, I ran into a woman who was there, that night. She still looked at me as if I were nuts."
Tony looked at Gibbs. "Classic attention seeking behaviour, acting out. Those were all the words that the shrink my mother sent me to used. She diagnosed me as a brat, said that I needed discipline." His smile soured.
"Still do." The soft words were good humoured.
"You're probably right," Tony agreed. He yawned widely, feeling the congestion in his chest. "You know, the only thing that they never tried was actually giving me attention. I wouldn't have had to act out if they had."
"You should sleep; save your energy."
"Okay, Boss," he murmured, letting his eyes closed. "I'll sleep for a little while."
He yanked his arm away from the man behind him, not needing to be pushed into his 'room'. He walked through the door, taking in the four star accommodation. Gibbs was back in the cell, lying on the floor, not moving. His eyes were closed.
"Your Boss, he didn't do so well. Hope you like talking to a ghost." The man behind him laughed, and closed the door.
He stood, frozen, not wanting to believe it. He couldn't breathe.
Gibbs was dead.
TBC ...