Warnings: Deals with mental illness/depression/suicidal thoughts/alcoholism; spoilers for anything up to s13.
A/N: Thank you for the reviews, favorites and follows. Feels good to be writing for you guys again :) Enjoy, and as always I would love to know what you think of this revamp. I'm very happy to be back with the original little family of Tony, Leah, and Jack :)
Guest-Wendy was Tony's fiancé before he joined NCIS, she was mentioned in the episode "Baltimore" and appeared in a season 9 episode.
Crickets provided the background music for the evening as the smell of citronella permeated the cool, crisp ocean air. There was only a fading pink streak left in the sky and through the open windows of the house the two men sitting on the back porch could hear soft notes of a lullaby.
Gibbs had quietly and humbly accepted Leah's invitation to stay for dinner, which then had turned into staying the night because she couldn't let him drive back to Boston this late. He was glad he had stayed because he was seeing her concerns for Tony up close and personal.
Tony was pretty much silent. In all the years that Gibbs had known the younger man, he had never seen Tony quiet. Gibbs knew that being shot and nearly dying had certainly punched the SFA in the gut—he just never imagined it had punched him so much that it had knocked the wind completely out of his sails.
"If I hadn't shown up, would you have come back to D.C tomorrow?" Gibbs questioned, breaking the silence.
"If Tommy Merchant wasn't in the picture, you mean?" Tony countered, quietly.
"No offense, DiNozzo, you seem pretty content to wallow."
"Wallowing seems like a fitting sentence."
He was puzzled by this answer. Did Tony actually think he should be punished? Gibbs could not find a single thing in this situation to blame the senior field agent for. He'd been shot by a psychopath that later went after his wife; the only harm Tony had done to himself was stopping for the night in a snowstorm and picking the wrong motel to stay at.
Sipping his beer and slouching further down in the wicker patio chair, Tony gazed at the house when Leah's lullaby had stopped. He fell back into silence, thinking about the last few hours, hell, even slipping further back and thinking about the last thirteen years. "Would you have shown up if Tommy Merchant hadn't been released from prison?"
Gibbs adverted his eyes. Certainly Leah's phone call a few days ago had raised some concerns but he had work. He couldn't just up and leave D.C to track Tony down, mentally slap him on the back of the head to get him moving… "Would you have come home if I just showed up out of the blue?"
Tony shrugged his broad shoulders. He wasn't in any rush to get back to Washington, even with the news of Merchant's alleged latest killing. "Leah has to go back to the University soon; classes start after Labor Day."
"Leah has to return to Washington, but would you go with her if you didn't have a reason?"
"I would have to go back with her; she'd have the car. I can't stay here without a car."
"Were you planning to be a house husband for the rest of your life?" Gibbs asked. Come on, Tony. Snap out of this!
"Being a happy little house husband is a lot safer than being a federal agent," Tony said, drily.
He couldn't argue with that logic and if Tony didn't want to be a federal agent anymore, that was fine with him, but Gibbs needed to know that it was fine with Tony. At this moment in time the team leader wasn't even sure if Tony was fine. The younger man was certainly acting like he was not. "You're good at what you do, Tony. You could train, teach. No one says you have to jump back out into the field."
Lips pursed, Tony narrowed his eyes on Gibbs. "Everyone wants to push me back into work. What if I don't want to work?" he challenged. "What if I rather like not having any other responsibilities but taking care of my family?"
Gibbs sighed and leaned forward. "No one is pushing you, DiNozzo…"
Tony snarled and threw his empty beer bottle into the nearby open trash bin. It clanged against the sides on the way down. "Really? No one? Leah asks me every…single…day… when I'm going back, she calls you, you show up… you don't really need me for this case, boss. You're just using it to shove me out the door!"
His outburst of anger surprised Gibbs. Tony was usually calm. He thought back to the evening of Kate's death, perhaps the only time he'd seen Tony react with such rage and anger when they couldn't find Ari after the bastard had fired into the lab. The rage had passed relatively quickly and Gibbs had never given it another thought… until now. "If you don't want to come back…"
Smoldering green eyes captured the faint light of the candles, but just enough that Gibbs could see the fire. "I don't," he snapped, "but I don't have a choice!"
"There's always a choice."
"Like hell there is! There's never a choice with this job! It's either kill or be killed!"
Gibbs stared at Tony. During their phone conversation Leah had mentioned Tony's outbursts of anger that seemed to come from out of nowhere somedays. She said they were never directed at Jack and he never raised a hand to her… she was incredibly terrified to see what her husband was going through. There were more underlying issues here; Tony needed to come home for more than one reason.
Tony rose out of his chair so fast that it tipped backwards, crashing onto the deck. "Speaking of being killed… I need to go pack so I can return to D.C and make sure that doesn't happen."
Behind him, Gibbs heard the screen door slam shut and he let out a soft sigh. He rubbed his hand over his face trying to clear his thoughts. "It's worse than I thought it was," he informed the silent newcomer to the porch. "Wish you had called sooner, Leah."
Leah picked up the chair that Tony had just tossed over. "It's gotten progressively worse since we got back from Italy. I don't know what to do anymore. Certain topics send him into a rage."
"Have you thought about consulting someone?"
"You saw him. Do you honestly think I'm going to get him to a therapist?"
Gibbs knew that answer. Doctor Taft had tried sending him to a therapist last year and ended up going through the backdoor to get the former marine the help he needed. They were going to have to take the same approach with Tony apparently.
Shrill rings from a cell phone broke through the sounds of a summer night. Gibbs reached into his pocket and flipped it open. "Yeah, Gibbs."
"Boss. Autopsy report came back on Patricia Wakefield. Just like you suspected. A neurotoxin was used to paralyze her."
"Merchant liked them completely helpless before killing them. Have a copy of that report sent to Ducky."
"Already did, boss," McGee replied. "He's looking over it right now."
Gibbs could sense the unspoken question in McGee's voice. "Good. DiNozzo and I will be heading back to D.C in the morning."
McGee let out a sigh of relief. If only he knew how messed up Tony was at the moment. "That's great, boss. I'll let the others know Tony's coming back to work."
He wasn't sure how great this really was. Gibbs eyed Leah for a moment while he ordered McGee to keep him updated, and then he hung up. "I suppose," he said to her, "that I don't have to tell you the dangers of this case."
She shook her head. "No but there's more than just one danger, Gibbs. We shouldn't be fearing just the killer… but fearing what could happen to Tony if he perceives himself as failing… if he loses someone else close to him."
His body stiffened. Gibbs knew the places that Tony could be taken if he lost someone close to him… if he lost Leah or Jack. Gibbs had been there himself…several times, and he always left a piece of himself behind in those dark places. There was still time for Tony, but they had to act fast. They had to get Merchant and get Tony the help he desperately needed.
Tony slammed the door to the office shut so hard that the window panes of the Victorian era home rattled. He went to the desk and opened the bottom drawer. Resting inside was a handle of whiskey and a tumbler. Tony grabbed them and kicked the drawer shut.
He hid his drinking as best he could from Leah; he didn't want to give her another reason to divorce him. Pouring himself a glass, Tony dropped to the leather sofa and downed the glass in one gulp. He poured a second glass. This time he didn't drink it in one sip, he sat there, swirling it around in his glass, contemplating his life.
"Should have pulled the trigger weeks ago," Tony mumbled. "You're a coward, Anthony."
If Gibbs wasn't in the house, if it wasn't so late, Tony might have gone to get his gun and done the deed that night. Coward. Tony downed the second glass of whiskey. Drinking made it easier to push the suicidal thoughts out of his head, made it easier to cope with the fact that he was weak and couldn't hold himself together.
Another glass of whiskey was poured. Tony knew he was getting dangerously close to his limit, but he didn't care. He kept drinking until finally, after hours, he passed out on the sofa.
