Chapter 16

Tony woke up early after a restless night. He hadn't been happy that Tim had made him talk about his dad, but he had sensed something more going on. Tim had said they could be finished with it, but Tony felt as though Tim wasn't really happy about that. Tony had to admit that Tim had let him off pretty easy, but maybe he really hadn't at all. Maybe he was hoping that Tony would do more...but Tony didn't want to, and he felt like he had the right to say that it was enough.

Would you let Tim say it was enough?

That treacherously honest part of his mind was really annoying. But it wasn't the same. Tim's problems had been really serious, possibly even life-threatening if he hadn't got them in hand. This wasn't like that at all.

But at the same time, Tony could see Tim thinking that way. Maybe it would be best just to tell Tim that it wasn't that serious, that this would pass and everything would be fine, even if it wasn't right at that moment. Then, that little bit of tension he had been able to sense all day yesterday would be gone and they could just have a good time instead of dealing with issues.

The more he thought about it, the better it seemed as an idea. Just explain that this wasn't going to be a lingering problem. It wasn't an issue. It was just a little hiccup and Tim didn't need to worry about it.

Decision made, Tony got out of bed and went into the bathroom to get ready for the day. When he came out, Tim was sitting up.

"You're up early," Tim said.

"Yeah. Can't waste time."

Tim raised an eyebrow in a silent question. Tony took the opening.

"Tim, this isn't as serious as you're making it out to be. Even if I'm not fine right at this moment, it's not long-term. It's really not an issue."

Then, for almost the first time, Tim looked at Tony with a different expression, and Tony knew what it was.

Disappointment.

"You're clearly holding something back, Tim," Tony said. "What is it?"

"You don't want to know," Tim said, bluntly, and got out of bed. He grabbed his stuff and went into the bathroom, closing the door just a bit more firmly than he needed to.

Tony sat there, a little nonplussed. What was that about? He waited until Tim came out of the bathroom.

"Tim."

"Tony, just drop it," Tim said as he put on his socks.

"No. This is something that's apparently really bothering you. Say it."

"I told you. You don't want to hear it and we don't need to have another fight about it."

"Tim, say it," Tony said.

Tim looked at him, dropped his shoes back onto the floor and shook his head in disbelief.

"Okay, fine. Tony, when are you going to pull your head out of your butt and face reality?"

"What? What reality don't you think I'm facing? I'm not pretending my dad isn't dead. I'm not pretending he was better than he was, either."

"The reality that this is a big deal. The reality that this is an issue. The reality that this probably will be long-term for you. That reality. The reality that puts you in the same category as me. The reality that says that when crappy things happen you have to deal with them. You can't just pretend that they aren't there. You can't ignore them and hope they'll go away. You can't drink enough to make them disappear."

"Whoa! I have not got drunk in years," Tony said, angrily. "I wouldn't do that to Jo or to my kids."

"Good," Tim said, sounding less than impressed. "That doesn't negate the rest of what I said. I know the techniques for changing the subject, Tony. I'm better at it than you are. No, you aren't on the verge of falling apart like I have been far too often, but that doesn't mean it's not a big deal, that it's not an issue, that you won't be dealing with this for more than a couple of months. And now, without me even asking anything more, you're trying to force me to agree with you, to agree with your approach, with your attempt to sweep all this under the carpet and pretend that everything is all hunky-dory. Well, guess what. I don't agree. You're wrong, Tony. Your dad is dead and you hate it. You may even hate that you hate it, but you do. At the end of the day, it doesn't matter that he was a deadbeat. It doesn't matter that they couldn't find you when he died. None of that matters! What matters is that your dad is dead. You can't have that fantasy Leave It to Beaver family. It's gone. So instead of trying to force yourself not to care, let yourself care! Stop acting like all that matters is what your dad was actually like. It doesn't because you're just as human as I am, and that means you do stupid things, think stupid things and react emotionally to things that you shouldn't. If your dad didn't matter to you at all, you wouldn't get choked up when talking about the first time you ate lobster."

"I didn't get choked up," Tony said, but it was a feeble protest. He wasn't sure he'd ever heard Tim this angry and this eloquent...maybe ever.

Suddenly, Tim's tone changed and he was quieter.

"Maybe, if you could just let yourself face all that head-on, you'd see what you actually do have...or what you could have if you'd only accept it."

"And what's that?"

"A real family," Tim said simply. "It's not fantasy because no one gets the fantasy. I didn't. Tommy hasn't. You definitely didn't. But it's real. It's not on TV. It's hard. Nothing gets resolved in an hour...forty-five minutes with commercials. But it's real. And, Tony, the more you push it away...the farther away it will be...and the bigger the risk that it will be too far away."

They were standing there, staring at each other, and suddenly, what Tim was saying really hit Tony. It hit him right between the eyes. He'd always suspected that part of the reason for his dad's distance was because he didn't want to deal with picking up the pieces after Tony's mom had died. It didn't excuse anything, but it was easier to go on when you didn't have to care.

And what was Tony doing? Following that same path, or at least, the potential was there to follow that same path, to ignore the stuff that hurt. Maybe Jo could see that. Maybe not. But really, it wasn't even just about Jo, either.

It was about the family that Tim had offered him years before. It was about the fact that Tony knew that, no matter what else, he didn't want to lose that family. He didn't want to lose any part of that family. He didn't want to lose Jo. He didn't want to lose Sam. He didn't want to lose Grace and Daniel. ...and he didn't want to lose Tim and Delilah and their kids.

And here was Tim warning him that he could lose all that if he kept up what he was doing.

Tony sank down onto the bed and leaned over, with his elbows resting on his knees, staring at the floor.

He saw Tim sit down across from him.

"If you don't care about losing all that, then, by all means, do what you want," Tim said.

Tony started to protest, but Tim wasn't done.

"But I think you do care about losing it, and even if you don't, I care about you losing all that. Then, where are you? Where Gibbs is."

Tony's head jerked up at the mention of Gibbs. Tim almost didn't even say his name, even now, but he had.

"What does this have to do with Gibbs?" Tony asked, although he knew.

"Gibbs is alone...not because he has to be, but because he chose it. I'm not even talking about...that day," Tim said and took a deep breath, a clear sign that he was remembering it. "I'm talking about the fact that he admitted he was afraid of reaching out, of opening up, and that even with the admission, he hasn't really changed." Now, Tim's expression twisted a little bit. It was almost a smile, but it was pained. "I know what pain can drive you to, Tony. I've been down that road and I needed people to drag me back, kicking and screaming. You're not moving down that road as fast as I was, but you're still going that direction...and you need to stop before it's too late, before you lose everything you've said you want."

"Do you really think that I'd go that far?" Tony asked, dreading the answer.

Tim shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe, maybe not, but I care enough not to wait and see."

Tony smiled a little at that, even as it hurt a little that Tim saw it as a possibility...even though he knew that it was. He looked back at the floor.

"You're pretty eloquent when you want to be, Probie. You know that?"

"Well, I had over two hours of fuming to do yesterday, Tony. I used my time."

Tony was quiet for a few moments. Then, he took a breath.

"You know what bothered me most about yesterday?"

"What?"

"The possibility that I could have pushed you too far and lost my family again. I really didn't want that, Tim," Tony said, not really daring to look up and see what Tim made of it. "Not seeing the whales just seemed like a statement that I didn't deserve to see them because I'd pushed you too far. And I know that's dumb, but I couldn't help but think it. Just a little bit."

Tim stood up and then sat down again beside Tony and squeezed his shoulder like he had the day before.

"Family lesson 102: There is no too far with family, but you don't want to push and find out if it's really true."

Tony laughed. "What?"

"Exactly what I said. Maybe there really is a too far, but you don't want to find out...because it's family you're pushing."

"You making these up as you go along?"

There was a long pause and Tony looked over to see Tim smiling.

"Wouldn't you like to know," he said. Then, he sobered. "Tony, really. Like I said yesterday, I'm not asking you to start bawling your eyes out or anything. I'm not saying you have to wander around in a fog of grief that you don't feel. Just stop trying to pretend that none of it matters because if you do, it might actually end up being true...and that's not good for anyone."

"So...was I too far?" Tony asked.

"Not yet," Tim said, smiling slightly. Then, he patted Tony's knee, almost paternally, and stood up. He walked back to his bed and sat down to put on his shoes.

"Tim?" Tony said after watching him for a few seconds.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

Tim looked up from his shoes.

"I don't have a clue what I'm doing, Tony," he said. "I'm not like you and always know the right way to respond to a situation. I fumble my way through and hope I don't do any damage along the way."

"Tim, I don't always know what to do, either. And if I seem like I do, it's because I called Ducky and asked for help first."

Tim smiled at that.

"I'm serious, though, Tim. Thanks. I didn't like hearing it, but I probably needed to."

"Whatever it takes," Tim said.

Tony nodded. Then, he tentatively tried to move on.

"So...where are we going to go today?"